Voldemort's Assassin
by etherian
Summary: Due to a clerical error Hermione discovers that the death of Severus Snape was mis-recorded. This could be a fluffy romance but for someone the Voldy War is not over, and after a gruesome death is revealed Hermione's life is thrown upside-down. Character death. Not Severus or Hermione.
1. Chapter 1

**VOLDEMORT's ASSASSIN - Chapter One**

Hermione collapsed, exhausted, upon the worn couch. She shifted as a broken spring pressed annoyingly against her hip. She was so tired of work. Her eyes closed as she recalled her first year at Hogwarts; expecting an old memory of halcyon days. It was not there.

Sometimes thought of her friends could be painful. Hermione sighed, rose from the threadbare sofa, and walked over to where there was a hot plate on the cabinet that served as a combination pantry, and small refrigerator. Using her wand to produce a stream of water she filled the kettle turned on the heat, and prepared her night-time treat of cream and sugar with her herbal tea. Her thoughts wandered to where her friends were now.

Harry had made more sense as a kid than after the Final Battle. She knew he suffered from terrible nightmares that had begun after the Final Battle. He had finally gone to a Muggle doctor for an anti-depressant. The medication curbed the edges of the nightmares, but nothing stopped them. It was something Ginny Weasley had not been able to cope with.

Hermione smirked ruefully; her eyes still closed. She had suspected that her best friend did not love Ginny as she professed to love him. And, Ginny, hanging on to the threads of fame of the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice, hurt Harry to the quick every time she opened her mouth to the Daily Prophet. It took a year of such faux pas' until Harry, in a fit of royal temper, had literally thrown Ginny to the curb from #12 Grimmauld Place.

Still, embers for Harry still burned within Ginny. She flew for Holyhead Harpies, and everytime she caught the Snitch, she owled it to him.

Harry, despite his depression, and nightmares, was trying his best to continue with his life. He was a successful Auror, and now was head of the Auror Defence Training department. He had also begun the ponderous task of renovating #12 Grimmauld Place magically.

Hermione's break-up with Ron had been quicker than a breath. Right after the Final Battle they had a tempestuous, argument-filled affair for six months, and then she had found her "boyfriend" in the arms of some red-head whose ginger hair resembled flame.

Hermione had hexed Ron's cheating nether bits with a terribly itchy rash, and consoled herself with ice cream at Fortescues and the recurring thought that the red-head had been as flat as a pancake.

Hermione had never been a "pretty thing", and she had taken after her mother in genetics. She stood at five feet in her heeled shoes, had curly hair that exploded to bushiness if she did not take care of it properly, and her figure was curvy; bigger in the hips and breasts than she wanted. She also hated that those same areas were the first to accumulate weight.

It had taken a year to get rid of the ice cream-curves she had indulged in after her break-up with Ron. Limited finances had also led to weight loss.

All of that coincided with a boring job at the Ministry that amounted to shuffling paper from here then to there, and filing it. Her only dealings with the public came from those witches and wizards that needed updated photos for their licences' or had a new test taken that just needed filing, and to be replaced by the ornate little card that declared this witch or wizard could now legally Apparate.

Hermione wanted to do so much more; take an apprenticeship, be a teacher, or have her own book store. She could not afford it, though. She barely was able to afford the small room she rented from an old witch that ran a quaint little tea cafe in Hogsmeade.

After the Final Battle she had been given a job in the Ministry's very interesting department of Historical Research, but the moment her break up with Ron had been luridly (and sympathetically towards Ron) splashed across several issues of The Daily Prophet - articles scathingly written by poison pen journalist Rita Skeeter, she had lost her job.

The articles in the Daily Prophet had spread their vile poison and Hermione had fallen from heroine to poor within a month. Her little reward from the Ministry as a Heroine of the War had been splurged by she and Ron during their whirlwind romance. The little left went to rent and groceries.

As for Hermione's parents, she had re-located them to Australia, but had subsequently "lost" them when the Wilkes had decided to move. Where they had gone, Hermione did not know. Once she had fallen out of favour with popular opinion her avenue of searching for her parents had ended. Harry had tried to continue the search in an official capacity but when his job had been threatened with such an association Hermione had told him to drop it. One day she would find her parents.

Crookshanks, her beloved half kneazle and half cat had vanished sometime during the Final Battle. She refused to think he might be dead since she missed him so terribly but knew deep down that he was likely gone for good.

Hours later that evening, the embers dying in the fireplace, and the tea treat long gone, Hermione closed her book, put out the flames with a touch of water from the end of her wand, and wandered off to her tiny bedroom, and crawled under the covers where she immediately fell asleep. To dream of happier days.

* * *

_A/N: This was begun out of boredom. I am now up to 24 chapters and have decided to post it here. 7 Chapters can be found at Tumblr at a-fine-romance-sshg dot tumblr dot com / story2 do if you want to read more._

_I will post every Friday, although for this Friday you will get two chapters._

_I have no beta so if you find a glaring error, please point it out to me._


	2. Chapter 2

**Ministry - The Department of Pointless, Bureaucratic Nonsense (or The Department of Licences)**

Hermione dutifully took the photograph of the proud, young wizard who had earned his Apparition Licence. The wizard grinned, and promptly blinked against the bright light. She waited the required five minutes for the photo to develop then handed the licence over to the wizard and directed him to return to the small group of his friends who were already showing off their licences.

Finally, there came the annoying ping that announced she had completed that paperwork, and was ready for the next new licensee. She called out the name upon a little card.

"Rory Wazlib!"

All that she had done for the other wizard: checking his Apparition written test, filing it, and taking the photo, she repeated for Rory Wazlib.

Moments later the young wizard practically tossed a thank you her way, snatched his coveted Apparition Licence, and ran back to his friends. With seven, very loud pops, all the friends apparated away to the Foyer of the Ministry of Magic.

Hermione sighed. She had told all seven kids that they were not to Apparate from inside the office, but as usual they did not listen. At least the Ministry wards would deal with the nitwits, and toss them, magically, right into a holding cell. Hermione waved her wand and the new, seven files, joined thousands, and thousands of other licences in the filing cabinet.

With that task out of the way, Hermione activated a spell to discover licences that would expire soon. In minutes she had a rather large stack of nearly 300 folders. Using another spell she was able to prepare letters to be owled to the owners of the almost expired licences to remind them to come in and get their licences renewed.

While the magic took care of that task, Hermione set herself to the more mundane task of tackling the stack of expired licences that required "personal" notification.

Hermione sort of liked this task as she had to research where the licensee had gone if they were no longer at their old address. This led her into the File of Records on Witches and Wizards and reading those files led to her finding out interesting information on those "possibly missing" wizards and witches.

Usually such an expired licence meant that the witch or wizard had died; something not always reported. Hermione made a lot of _Mirror Calls_ to family members that informed her, sometimes rather nastily, that so-and-so was dead.

She was halfway through the S's and was mumbling the names to herself that she had to find out more on. "Smutters, Addie, Snaller, Peter, Snape, Severus, Snanan, Gupt… what?" Hermione dropped the files and returned to the one before Gupta Snanan. "Snape, Severus?" She began to read aloud softly, "20th May, 1998: No reminder sent. 20th June, 1998 No Mirror reminder call. 20th July, 1998: No second reminder sent. 20th August, 1998: No second Mirror reminder call." The litany of dates, and magically inscribed notes continued until… "20th May, 2000: Ministry Department of Manually Recorded Deaths enters note of licencees death during Final Battle of Voldemort War."

Hermione stared. The notation was written by hand in red ink. Someone in the Manually Recorded Deaths department had made this notation, and signed it with the initials of _LB_. Hermione thought immediately of Lavender Brown. And, then she shook her head. Lavender Brown had a successful business designing clothing for the "modern witch". This _LB_ was someone else.

Moving to the rolodex upon her desk, she pointed her wand at it, and intoned, Department of the Ministry, Manually Recorded Deaths, who is LB?"

The rolodex spun lazily until a card popped up. A wizard's voice answered her question, "LB is Laurena Batrice, secondary to the Head of the Manual Recorded Deaths of Witches and Wizards, Confirmed. Ms. Batrice's job description is to monitor all active files having to do with patents, and licences, and if there is the possibility that the witch or wizard in consideration might be deceased, it is Ms. Batrice's job to confirm the death, and to deactivate the file."

With just a turn Hermione was kneeling in front of her Floo. She tossed in a handful of Floo powder, and called for Laurena Batrice.

_"Batrice, here," said the pretty green face in the Floo flames. "What can I do for you?"_

"Hi. Hermione Granger here in Apparition Licences. I have a question for you in regards to a file where you confirmed that the wizard was deceased."

_"Mm-hmm," nodded Laurena Batrice._

"Well, the file is still active," blurted Hermione.

_"Not possible," insisted Batrice._

"I _know_ it shouldn't be, but the file is here, and despite your initials, it is in the active file."

_"Then you just have to file it in the deactivated filing cabinet, Ms. Granger," sighed Batrice. Hermione grimaced at the woman's condescending tone of voice._

"I have tried, but the magic keeps returning the file to 'active'. "

_"Well, who is it?" demanded Batrice._

Hermione hesitated. She did not want to let Batrice know who the wizard was, but if she did not do so, she would never get the information she needed. Finally, "It's Severus Snape."

_Laurena Batrice's green face gave her rolling eyes, and a glare that implied that Hermione was not as intelligent as she thought she was. "Snape died before the Final Battle, Ms. Granger. If I recall, you even testified before the Wizengamot that you, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley witnessed his death!"_

Hermione blushed crimson, and her embarrassment was even hotter. "I _know_ that," Hermione bit out stiffly. "I wanted to bring to your attention that there is a discrepancy in the magic, and…"

_"That's not my job, Ms. Granger," Batrice huffed with clear annoyance. After a few seconds, she purred nastily, "Do you need me to come down there and deactivate the spell on that folder for you?"_

"No…!" Hermione cut the Floo connection suddenly and angrily, turned to her desk, promptly smacked her head on the corner in her indignant anger, hit the desk her fist, and then climbed into her uncomfortable chair. She cursed heartily.

Hermione dropped the folder, and sighed heavily. Did it matter? Snape was dead, and this just confirmed it. Right?

The witch stared at the folder in puzzlement. If it did not matter, and Snape was confirmed dead, why was his file still amongst the "active" files? Magic, she had learned was only fallible if the witch or wizard did not know what they were doing. She had been the one to fix a great deal of faulty spells in the Apparition Licencing Department, so she knew her Active Spell was not at fault.

"So," she asked aloud of the room as she glared at Severus Snape's folder, "why are you still active?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Voldemort's Assassin - Chapter 3**

**Grimmauld Place**

"But, Harry, the file is active!" Hermione insisted for the fourth or fifth time.

Harry had invited Hermione to Grimmauld Place to work on his ideas of renovation for the place. After he, supervised by Molly, had cleaned the gloomy house from top to bottom Harry had decided it needed much more than a cleaning. He had not expected Hermione to show up crowing about some mystery dealing with Severus Snape.

Harry had explained that although the house was cleaner, and appeared more inviting, he needed to put his own touches on the place so he would feel more at home. Ignoring Hermione's outburst about some file, he scooted his drawings for the kitchen across the coffee table to her.

"Mrs. Weasley was happy to use that old stove, and oven for cooking, but I think I'd like something more modern, and maybe butcher block for the counters…" began Harry

"Harry! This is important!" she shoved the folder she had lifted from her office at him, scattering his drawings to the floor.

"Look, Hermione," sighed Harry heavily as he sent their tea things to the kitchen, and leaned over to pick up his homemade blueprints. "It's the Ministry. Don't you think they could have screwed up? I mean, that folder was magically recording Snape's expired Apparition Licence months after his death."

"I know, Harry," muttered Hermione as she stared at the plain folder she had purloined from her office.

Harry curled up in the one worn chair that had belonged to Sirius Black that he had kept. "Did you speak to this LB?"

"Laurena Batrice." Hermione nodded. "She affirmed that she had made the final note, but she couldn't tell me why the folder was still in the active file cabinet." Her lips pursed as she quickly recalled that Laurena Batrice really had not cared whether or not the magic of the folder revealed anything about Severus Snape. "I think she probably thought I was nuts."

"I don't think you're nuts, Hermione." Harry shook his head. "But, I don't know what to tell you."

For a long minute the witch stared at the folder, and just when Harry thought they were finished with the subject of the spy/Death Eater/teacher, she blurted, "I think he's still alive."

"What?!" Harry jumped up from his comfortable position in the plushy, old chair.

"I think the magic is trying to tell us that Severus Snape is still alive, Harry." Hermione sounded calm to herself, but she felt her heart beating harder in her chest.

"Hermione!" Harry shouted. "That's impossible! Snape died right in front of us!" He insisted.

"Did he?" Hermione asserted. "Did he, Harry? We were kids… afraid… and we were witnesses to something horrible…"

"I KNOW! I WAS THERE DAMMIT!" Harry snapped himself back into the chair with his arms crossed over his chest. His brows beetled in anger as images from that day - that awful vision of Nagini wrapping herself around Snape. He closed his eyes against the memory. "He was dead," he groused.

"Harry, listen to me. I went to see Minerva and she let me into Professor Snape's quarters…"

"She kept them?!" Harry demanded in shock.

"Minerva didn't have a choice, Harry. Hogwarts kept his rooms. The castle also kept his private lab which she told me she had not been able to access since the Final Battle."

Harry huffed in annoyance. "But you accessed it, right?" Harry expected Hermione to tell him that she had, but she shook her head. Harry gave her a puzzled glance.

"I tried," Hermione sighed and fell against the back of the couch. "Professor Snape's spells and wards are just too strong."

"Snape _was_ a good wizard," muttered Harry with a touch of admiration.

Hermione smirked. "Yeah, but I don't think we have to get into his lab. I mean, now that I've had time to think on it, don't you think it's awfully odd that a Potions Master of Professor Snape's calibre 'died' from a snake bite? Or, the poison? The same poison that that Potions Master found a cure for when we almost lost Arthur Weasley to the very same thing? And, you recall, don't you Harry, that Mr. Weasley's wounds were all around his neck, chest, and arms?"

Harry nodded and leaned forward. "Yeah. Yeah I do. Mr. Weasley fought with Nagini, and she really messed him up." He then shook his head. "But Snape didn't bring that antidote. Dumbledore did."

Hermione huffed softly. "Just because the Headmaster brought the antidote doesn't mean he was the one who brewed it. We know from the Headmaster's portrait's testimony that it was Professor Snape who created the antidote. It was also Professor Snape who told the Headmaster to tell the Healer that Mr. Weasley's wounds would have to be sewn shut in the Muggle surgical way."

Harry paced across the threadbare carpet, nervously biting his thumb. When he stopped he did so right in front of his best friend. "When you went to Hogwarts did Minerva tell you?"

"Tell me what, Harry?" asked Hermione, her interest piqued.

"About Snape's body. I took Minerva, and a nurse to the Shrieking Shack to recover Snape's body…" Harry paused, and Hermione nodded to keep him going. "Well, Snape wasn't there. In the Shrieking Shack. I thought he'd gotten away, but the nurse said there was too much blood. It was Minerva who said that maybe it was one of the escaped Death Eaters that took his body. She made us swear we wouldn't say anything."

"The casket was empty?!" Hermione gasped and Harry nodded. Hermione's lips pursed again as she made a decision. "I know I'm guessing, but I think Professor Snape had that antidote."

Harry shook his head. "It wouldn't have helped him, Hermione. Remember? Even if he was still alive when we left him, he couldn't move. If an escaped Death Eater stole his body it wasn't to keep him alive but to…" Harry gulped, grimaced, and whispered, "...Snape was a traitor. Death Eaters would have desecrated his body."

Harry dropped back into his chair, and dropped his head into his hands. It still hurt to remember that day in the Shrieking Shack.

_He'd had no reason to trust Snape. Hell, he didn't even like him. Hated Snape, even. He murdered Dumbledore, and he betrayed the Order of the Phoenix._

_But, it hurt to see the man who had been so dismissive… no, hateful towards him… in pain. Snape had expelled his memories which saved them all, but his eyes had glistened with unshed tears as he lay dying from awful wounds._

_Nagini's fangs had stabbed the wizard's throat, his shoulder. Wounds that were as clean as a weapon that struck flesh would make. Snape was bleeding heavily from those bites, and Harry not only could smell the blood, but it had crept into his throat. _

_Harry saw the terrible past of Snape's horrid pain: the man's throat had swollen horribly from Nagini's venom, and the Potions Master gasped as he fought for every breath. When Snape spoke his voice was laced with the pain he suffered._

Harry raised his head, and looked across at Hermione. His own eyes glittered with the tears Snape had never been able to release. "Nobody cared about him, Hermione. There was nobody… to save him."

* * *

**A/N: Today is my 52nd birthday so I decided to gift you with an early chapter. Next chapter will be posted on Friday.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Voldemort's Assassin - Chapter 4**

Harry agreed with Hermione's theory that Snape survived, and was likely in hiding someplace; it was a sound theory, and he had learned that Hermione always did a lot of research before bringing a theory to him. However, when she proposed that they go looking for the Potions Master he was in no hurry to find the wizard.

"Snape's not a social butterfly…" Harry grimaced at the image that flashed through his mind at what he said. Hermione was obviously suppressing a giggle. He shrugged. "What I mean is I don't think Snape would really want to be found. If he is really alive, and he wanted anyone to know, we would have known by now."

"Maybe he's just afraid…"

Harry interrupted with a huge belly laugh. Hermione just glared at him until his laughter faded. "I'm sorry, 'Mione. Really. But, Snape afraid of anything is just too funny. This is the man that faced Voldemort," he shook his head. "I don't know how many times. He also faced off against that bloody great snake! I even saw and heard Snape call Dumbledore 'a dotty, old twinkler with delusions of grandeur' and Dumbledore just smiled at him like Snape was a favourite son!"

Harry toyed a moment with the design plans for the kitchen he had wanted to talk to Hermione about. "If Snape's alive he's got privacy, now. People aren't bothering him anymore." He sighed. "I kinda wish I had that sort of anonymity."

"Ginny," nodded Hermione. For a short time after the war Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter had lived together in Grimmauld Place against her parents advice. They wanted Ginny to finish school before committing to anything.

Only a few months later it had been Harry who wanted to settle down and begin on his own family that could not commit to their relationship. First there were the Death Eater trials, then the infamous trial of Severus Snape, posthumously tried and acquitted. There had then come numerous interviews, parties, etc. to show off the hero of the wizarding world, the Vanquisher of Voldemort.

Only after Ginny left upon her finishing of school to take up the Seeker position with the Holyhead Harpies that Harry had finally begun to say "no" to all the media pomp and circumstance. That only began the ringing of the death knell on their relationship.

Deciding to plod on despite the setback with Ginny, Harry had signed up for training in the Aurory, and he and Ron had begun to repair their friendship after the hit it had taken when Ron had cheated upon Hermione. Ron and Harry no longer had what they once had in school, but they still viewed each other as brothers, and Harry was often at the Burrow since he was included in all family functions.

Hermione, though on cordial terms with Ron, had never made any move to renew their friendship. At one time she thought to do so but then Ron had wound up marrying the witch he had cheated on her with. Six months later, despite her being pregnant, the married couple had divorced because Ron had caught his witch cheating on him!

Ron had moved back in with his parents, sometimes babysat his daughter, Elly, that he doted on, and helped George out at Wizarding Weasley Wheezes. And, once a week he had dinner at Grimmauld Place with Harry.

After a long silence in which they were both lost in thoughts of friends, and the past, Harry broke the quiet. "You're still going to look for Snape, aren't you, Hermione?"

Hermione smiled thinly, and nodded. "I have to know if he really is alive, Harry."

Harry shook his head. "I don't understand why you _have to know_, but I remember how you used to tackle problems in school." Hermione smirked at the memory, and Harry smiled. "Yeah, you were sorta relentless."

Hermione had left Grimmauld Place with no thought to the original reason Harry had invited her to tea. Firmly ensconced in her little apartment she stared down at the Apparition Licence Record of one wizard, Severus Snape, and it's mystery of where that wizard was now.

Of course, as an information source, the folder had little to say. Hermione was left to memories she thought never to revisit.

Curling up on her comfy but small twin size bed Hermione closed her eyes, and drifted back to those last days as a student at Hogwarts.

War was on the horizon but she had forced herself into a twilight where only work, study, and tests mattered. A tiny part of her knew that her obsession towards her schoolwork was her way of desperately holding onto a sane world that was eroding all around her. She would not admit it, but she increasingly found mention of Voldemort from Ron or Harry sent her into a red haze of irritation. Harry frequently woke from nightmares, and the Trio had to "hide" at the Order Headquarters far too many times.

Order meetings were off limits to "children", so Dumbledore decreed, but with a variety of snooping devices crafted by Fred and George Weasley the "children" heard nearly everything at every meeting they were being "kept safe" from.

While everyone else tended to play, eavesdrop, or talk excitedly about the pending war Hermione would retreat to library for a dose of insulated sanity.

Within the dim, musty confines that were heated by one fireplace Hermione would curl up in an oversized, leather-cracked chair with a book to retreat to her own world.

One late night she had fallen asleep in that chair, and was awakened by a thump from the corridor. Hermione jumped to her feet to discover the noise, and found her Potions teacher on the floor. He was on his knees, and his upper body leaned wearily against the wall. His Death Eater robes pooled like spilled, black ink all around him. By his knees was his silvery mask, and it was spattered with…

_Hermione had almost fainted when she realised that upon the mask was blood. Her fainted stumbling was just enough to alert Snape to her presence. When the witch looked away from the mask, she found her gaze imprisoned by the dark, heated, and hateful gaze of Severus Snape._

"_Why aren't you in bed, Miss Granger?" he snarled._

"_I fell asleep in the library, sir," she whispered. "Can I help you?"_

_The wizard did not move except for his gaze which had dropped. His lanky hair hung like a concealing shadow over his face. Hermione was almost sure he had passed out. She took a step forward, but was halted by Snape's gravelly voice._

"_Come here," he ordered roughly, not lifting his head._

_Hermione did so, but stopped at the edge of his robes. "Sir?" her voice trembled._

_With effort and using the wall he leaned against Snape rose to his feet. He then held out his left arm, and pierced her frightened countenance with his eyes._

"_Next to me, Miss Granger."_

_Again Hermione moved, and awkwardly settled herself against his side. His arm fell heavily to her shoulders, and she almost fell down to her knees. She kept standing though when even more of the wizard's weight came away from the wall, and settled upon her._

"_Upstairs," he mumbled. Snape's voice even at that weary mumble was sharp, and gruff. _

_With nary a shuffle, at least on the wizard's part, Hermione helped Snape up to the third floor, and to the end of the hall, and into the darkened room that had been designated as his. The last hurdle was across the floor, in the depths of shadow, to the bed. _

_Hermione's feet tangled up amongst themselves and the shadows. She stumbled. Before she knew it she was pinned to the mattress with the extremely heavy body of the Potions Master's on top of her. She could barely breathe. Neither was it at all arousing as the smell of copper was redolent in the air._

"_Miss Granger," came the gruff voice at her ear. "Kindly remove your person from my bed so that I may sleep."_

"_C-can you…" she struggled, and then actually growled as she twisted ineffectually beneath him. "Help!" She cried._

_Snape's only movement was to roll over onto his back, thus removing himself from crushing the young girl. With a slight bit of panic she could not explain Hermione leapt to her feet, and nearly ran to the door of the bedroom._

"_Sir, I…" she began._

"_Out!" he shouted. Hermione fell into the hallway, and the door slammed with finality behind her._

That had been a curious moment for Hermione but she began at that moment to surreptitiously watch the dark man in black.

Snape was a shadow at Grimmauld Place who rarely spoke to anyone unless a response of him was required. Hermione began to note that the other members of the Order of the Phoenix did their best to ignore Snape. With the exception of Molly and Arthur Weasley.

Arthur always greeted him affably, never hesitating to shake his hand, and touch his arm. Molly would greet him in the kitchen with both a quick hug, and a hot meal just for him. She never prattled in his ear as she did with everyone else but Hermione was impressed by the way the witch took care of the Slytherin wizard.

Hermione had even spied Molly touching the dour wizard's sharp-planed cheek with affection she reserved for her children, and Harry.

And, Snape? All those gentle touches, and never did he flinch from them.

After the death of the Headmaster at Snape's hand, and when he had been appointed as Headmaster by his other master, Voldemort, Hermione had listened to all the derogatory remarks bandied about by the members of the Order of the Phoenix. Awful remarks that were never echoed by Arthur Weasley.

Once, when Harry and Ron had gotten into a terrible grouse-fest over the inadequacies, and supposed deformations of body and character, Molly had spoken up sharply to both boys. The witch had particularly shaken a finger at Harry to remind him that whatever Snape's faults had been it had been the Potions Master who had worked so hard to keep him alive.

Hermione had expected some sort of lame, yet awful retort from her friend in reply to the admonishment but Harry had remained silent. Now that she thought of it, Hermione could not recall a single time after that afternoon in the kitchen in which Harry spoke loudly against Snape.

With these thoughts in mind Hermione decided to visit the elder Weasleys. They might know something she had never thought of.

**AT THE BURROW**

Molly prepared tea while Arthur shuffled his visiting sons outside. Ron was there with his daughter Elly. Elly, familiar with Hermione at one and half years of age, loved to be held by the witch. Hermione rather liked holding Elly, too. Holding the girl as she drank from her bottle of milk, Ron watched, and felt his stomach both flutter, and sink. He had blown it royally with Hermione, and had been taught the hard way what he had put his friend through when his wife had cheated on him.

"You'll make a great mum someday, 'Mione," sighed Ron. Elly smiled around the nipple of her bottle, bounced, and her blue eyes sparkled.

"You think so, Ron?" asked Hermione. She wondered at the bittersweet tender tone in Ron's voice.

"Well, I know Elly'd agree, but you remember when you got after everyone about the kids in the dungeons right after the battle?" Hermione nodded as she carded her fingers through Elly's straight, strawberry curls.

"I sort of recall a bit of a fuss," chimed in Arthur. His forehead wrinkled at memories of the past. He had been so in grief over the loss of Fred, and doing what he could to console Molly, and George, and his other children, that the following days until Fred's burial had been a blur to him. "What happened?"

Ron hesitated, so Hermione interrupted. She recalled how Ron had left his family to tend to the injured because he could not face his family's grief over Fred.

"It was such chaos and I just remarked to someone…" she frowned. "I think it was Professor Sprout… anyway, I wondered why there was no sign of the younger children. Professor Flitwick was nearby and got suddenly flustered and began rambling about the 'children in the dungeon'."

Ron took up the tale, "The dungeons got flooded when the windows in the Slytherin common room shattered. Hermione just took over at that point, kept everyone calm, and organised a group of us to head down to the dungeons and rescue the kids who were now trapped by water from the Black Lake."

"That must have been an awful mess," commented Molly as she set down tea before everyone.

Ron nodded, and gave Hermione a shy glance of pride. "There were mermaids and grindylows in that water. I think every kid got either stung or bit at least once by those beasties."

"Oh my!" gasped Molly.

Ron grinned, "But 'Mione didn't lose her cool, mum. She got all those kids out, and gave everyone a dose of anti-venin potion. Not one died cause of 'Mione getting us all there to rescue 'em!"

"That's our Hermione!" smiled Arthur with fatherly pride.

Hermione blushed. She then felt Elly being lifted from her arms, and felt suddenly bereft as she looked up at Ron holding his daughter.

"We're off for a walk, mum and dad," said Ron as he kissed his daughter's warm cheek. "Back for dinner. You gonna stay, 'Mione?"

Molly quickly interjected, "You're welcome to, Hermione."

Hermione thought very briefly of the Chinese take-out she was planning to get for dinner. She smiled at Molly. "I'd love to stay!" She would be a fool if she ever said no to any of Molly Weasley's cooking.

Molly patted Hermione's arm while Ron exited with his daughter. After a quiet moment of indulging in the tea, the elder witch asked, "Now, what has you all in a dither, Hermione?"

"I wanted to ask you about…" Hermione coughed as she hesitated, and took a too large sip of her tea. It was hot. "Augh!" she dumped creamer into the tea to mainly cool the brew, and blew across it's surface. Molly patted her back.

"Slowly, dear. We'll answer whatever questions we can."

"It's Professor Snape," Hermione started. "He… he seemed to like both of you?"

"I believe so," nodded Molly. She sighed, and wiped at a tear that fell to her cheek. "Everyone thought he was so evil when it was true evil that took Fred from us." More tears followed the first, and Molly blew her nose into a handkerchief she conjured.

Arthur spoke up. "Hermione, I know you think Severus only was there to protect Harry, but he kept a lot of children at Hogwarts safe; even after the death of Albus."

"Ginny didn't think so…" interrupted Hermione.

Arthur smirked, "Not immediately. As you surely know it was a highly emotional time, and all the Slytherins had become the embodiment of evil. After she got a chance to think everything over clearly, and she saw Albus' memories at Severus' trial she saw what he had done to keep the Carrows from wrecking true harm at Hogwarts before the Final Battle."

Hermione sipped her tea thoughtfully. "I remember Neville just practically spitting with anger against Snape. He told me that Snape allowed the Carrows to torture Michael Corner almost to death."

Molly put down her mug of tea, and tsk'ed. "What Neville didn't know until later, after Michael's father was interviewed in _The Quibbler_ was that Severus had rescued Michael, and he made arrangements, right under You-Know-Who's nose, for medical care and a safe house for Michael and his family."

Hermione nodded. "I read that interview." She smiled.

Molly began clearing the tea things away and putting them in the sink. "Hermione what you need to understand is that Severus was awfully stressed out at that time. More than usual. He was carrying out Albus' plans, running Hogwarts, making sure the students were relatively safe, and…"

"And he was grieving for Albus," added Arthur.

"There was so much he was doing, and he was being pulled in so many directions." Molly shook her head. "He never deserved to die by the snake!" Molly's tone was hard. Arthur showed his displeasure by pursing his lips, and shaking his head forlornly.

Hermione clasped her hands together, missing her cup of tepid tea. She then spoke very quietly, "Harry told me that Professor Snape's body was never buried. They didn't find it."

Molly stared hard at Hermione. "What do you mean, Hermione?" demanded Arthur. "No body?"

"Harry told me that he and Minerva went to the Shrieking Shack to collect Professor Snape's body, and it wasn't there. The casket at his funeral was empty." Hermione spoke carefully, repeating the words to herself. She then blurted, "I think Professor Snape's alive!"

Molly and Arthur quickly glanced in shock at each other. Arthur then grasped her hands in his. "What makes you think that, Hermione?"

She tightened her hands within Arthur's warm grip. She then explained, "I found a file at work that the spell has kept it active. I tried de-activating the spell so I could file the folder correctly, but I couldn't. I think that's because Professor Snape is alive."

Both Molly and Arthur were very quiet for what seemed a long time. They traded significant looks with each other. Molly quickly shook her head, but Arthur just nodded slowly to his wife. Hermione watched them wondering what was going on. _Did the Weasleys know something?_

"What?" Hermione demanded. Her heart beat hard. "What is it that you both know?"

Arthur sighed, then nodded to his wife. Molly looked critically at Hermione then she, too, sighed. "Go to Malfoy Manor."

Hermione wanted more than that, but beyond that cryptic direction Molly and Arthur would say no more.


	5. Chapter 5

**MALFOY MANOR**

Lucius Malfoy was in his study bent over the books that kept track of his various interests. Before the war he'd had a bookkeeper to keep track of his businesses, but the Malfoy family had lost their reputation along with nearly half of their fortune. He had less interests now, and so he kept the books himself.

After all, he often thought to himself, there was nothing for him to do since Narcissa had left him after the trial, and Draco refused to speak to him.

Recently he had sold his last Aethenor in order to effect more repairs to the older part of the manor that had been occupied by Voldemort, and his Death Eaters. The Malfoy White Aethenor had long been coveted by breeders, and as his last winged horse was a proven breeder of two champion flyers the sale had been very fortuitous. Lucius had enjoyed the winged horses, and developing the Malfoy White Aethenor, but he preferred his peacocks over the horses.

The Malfoi du Blanc was well-known not just to magical enthusiasts, but also to Muggles, as they were not a magical creature. Lucius' father, Abraxas, had heartily disliked the beasts because they were 'nothing special' but Lucius had developed a soft spot for the birds at a very young age. It was not until after he had left Hogwarts, and married Narcissa, that he had been able to get his first pea-hen - Miracles Lost. That bird had become the mother and ancestor to all of his beautiful peacocks.

It had always annoyed him that Narcissa had never grown to even like the peacocks. As for Draco, they just scared him silly.

Despite what his family thought of the peacocks Lucius loved the birds, and had found in tending them, a kind of peace that was difficult to find in the time of Voldemort.

It had hurt terribly when during the occupation of the manor the Dark Lord had fed much of his beloved birds to the Death Eaters as they stayed in his home. Voldemort had done this in order to show Lucius how much he hated the wizard. It had greatly thinned out his prized flock, but he still had at least one mating couple left. The prized Malfoi du Blanc would soon be back to its original numbers.

One of the few bright lights was a new business that he had talked a friend of his into. Recently he had suggested that his friend work away from the owl-order side of the business and go towards a storefront. It was a move that his friend was being very stubborn about ignoring. Arguments had been closed down quite some time ago.

Lucius put down his quill, rubbed his eyes, and then pushed away from the desk. His silvery, quilted dressing robe with the green velvet trim swirled lazily around his legs as he left his study. Beneath his robe he wore a set of white silk pyjamas, one of the few sets he had left after the Ministry had gone through the manor with in order to be rid of all 'Dark and suspected artifacts.'

"Seventh month in a row you have made a significant profit over 1,000 galleons, my friend. You really ought to…"

"Do not start, Lucius," growled a dark silken, yet slightly rough voice from the parlor Lucius had just stepped into.

A house elf, the only house elf left to the Malfoy household, popped into the parlor and dutifully interrupted. "Is witchy-witch visitor at door, Master Lucius!"

"Witch who, Pratty? Did she give you a name?" demanded Lucius as he sat down in a worn, tapestried chair. He Summoned a small side table in which to put down the tumbler of brandy upon.

Pratty nodded his large head that rested upon his thin neck, and smiled. "Hermione Granger!"

Lucius frowned at the house elf. The witch had testified on behalf of Draco, and then himself, along with a set of memories from Albus Dumbledore. Draco had been acquitted, but Lucius had spent time in Azkaban. Granted, there had been no Dementors as there had been his first time there, but it was still an execrable experience for 6 months.

He had disliked the child as a student at Hogwarts, and friend to Potter. And, then she had been captured with her friends by Snatchers, and tortured in his home by his mad sister-in-law, Bellatrix LeStrange. Lucius' guilt-shaded feelings, and somewhat remaining antipathy, had changed when she had testified on his, and Draco's behalf during the Death Eater Trials. Even so, he never thought she would voluntarily return to Malfoy Manor. Her visit had him quite curious.

"Bring her here, Pratty…" the house elf vanished.

There was a rustle of cloth, and a storm-darkened voice warned, "I do not want to see her."

Lucius shrugged. "What does it matter?"

"The witch is Hermione Granger. She cannot keep a secret, Lucius. She… bloody hell!"

Hermione, who was popped in with the house elf, nearly collided with the object of her search. She cursed just as he did, and added. "Professor! You are alive! I was right!"

Severus Snape, hale and hearty, and garbed in a rather informal outfit of a white silk shirt with puffed sleeves, a deep red, quilted velvet vest, and sharply creased black trousers, glared down at the witch who stood, gaping upward at him.

"Close your mouth, Miss Granger," he snarled. "You look like an idiot."


	6. Chapter 6

**MALFOY MANOR II**

Hermione had many thoughts tumbling about in her head after speaking to the Weasleys and she was directed to Malfoy Manor. For a moment not thinking of Severus Snape Hermione let her thoughts drift to the Malfoys.

It was known that Lucius removed himself and his wife and son just before Hagrid arrived carrying Harry's supposedly dead body back into Hogwarts. Strange, to say the least, but there had been over one-hundred witnesses on both sides that saw Voldemort releasing all three Malfoys from the end of the Final Battle. Not until much later, during the Death Eater Trials, did the question come out as to why Voldemort did such a strange thing.

That answer came during Lucius Malfoy's trial when he told the story of his own betrayal of Severus Snape to their Dark Lord Voldemort. Malfoy's escape had been a reward. Had Voldemort won the war, though, the Malfoys would have summarily been tortured and executed as traitors.

Just before Draco and Lucius' trials Harry had told Hermione, in confidence, that Dumbledore's memories had contained memories of not just Snape, but of Lucius, as well. Harry grudgingly admitted to Hermione that he was not going to share the information since he held a grudge against Draco, and Lucius had tried to kill him, and had nearly killed Ginny Weasley.

Upon hearing that outrageous declaration, first, Hermione hexed Harry with itchy skin, and then, second, she demanded that he put aside his grudges, and do the right thing; share those memories with the Wizengamot. After a loud argument, Harry saw things _Hermione's way_, and did share the memories. He had a rash for a week afterwards, though.

Hermione had expected a few mentions, but Dumbledore's memories revealed that Lucius Malfoy had been instrumental in cleverly rescuing nearly 75 children from the clutches of Voldemort, or the Death Eaters. Further, Lucius had also done his best to keep Voldemort from Harry.

It had been a long, and illustrative trial that revealed more spies in the midst of the Death Eaters that had been known only to Dumbledore. Snape had known of Lucius' work, but he had apparently not been privy to the information about the other spies.

Altogether, the Headmaster's memories provided a much more concise revelation into the Order of the Phoenix and that it had been more than just a "handful of Gryffindors".

Molly and Arthur had backed up part of Albus' memories by testifying that they had taken the children Lucius' rescued to safe homes. However, Lucius had nearly killed Ginny, and even though Lucius' claimed he had no idea of how dangerous Voldemort's Diary was, it was for this endangerment that he had been sentenced to six months in Azkaban. Molly and Arthur had only extended forgiveness towards Lucius when Ginny had forgiven the wizard for the Diary.

Draco had been acquitted since he did not have the Dark Mark, and it had been proved that all of his actions had come about because he wanted to save his family. Hermione had also testified to the fact that when she was being tortured by Draco's aunt, Bellatrix LeStrange, Draco had diverted her attention at a crucial moment that allowed Hermione and her friends to escape the manor.

Once the Malfoys trial was over the wizarding world seemed to just forget them.

Hermione Apparated from the Burrow to the gates of Malfoy Manor after a short walk had somewhat cleared her mind. Standing outside the gates her heart began to beat heavily with remembered fear, and that night she spent under Bellatrix LeStrange's knife. Without knowing that she was doing it her right hand covered the place on her forearm where the word 'Mudblood' had been carved, and cursed into the flesh beyond the repair of any magic.

"The past," Hermione hissed to herself. "Bellatrix is dead." With a swallow the witch pushed open the gate, and walked up the long driveway to the manor.

Halfway down the drive, just as the full majesty of the manor crested into view, Hermione paused. In the midst of being dragged to the manor by Voldemort's Snatchers she had not been able to appreciate the manor and its sheer grandeur.

Malfoy Manor had been built by Louis Malfoi from France after he had taken himself, and his family to Wiltshire, England. Already a wealthy man Louis had acquired an unprecedented 7,000 acres that took a year to properly hide the extensive acreage from the Muggle world, to spell and activate long term spells to protect the land and all buildings built upon it, and also to effect an Unplottable ward.

To this day it was a smug conceit of Lucius' that not even the Ministry knew the true extent of the Malfoy property. Thus, but for the obvious, most of escaped Ministry interference after the war. For example, neither wizard or Muggle knew that there was an extensive wildlife preserve, a Magical Creatures zoo, and a network of beautiful lakes that were home to mermaids, grindylows, and many other magical water creatures including the elusive Kelpie of Scotland.

As for the manor itself it was a mansion of three levels. The outside was bricked, brilliant white marble. The patio was a wide veranda supported by four columns. This part of the main manor was a simple rectangle with a flat roof top whose surface was dotted by chimneys, and vents. This part of the manor had a clean, old-world, Grecian taste to it.

Abraxas Malfoy had later added two six level towers to the east and west of the main manor. The east side had been built for his son, Lucius, and to serve as a residence after his marriage to Narcissa. The west side, more sinister, had a hidden entrance to the dungeons Abraxas had built, and storage for magical artifacts, and workrooms. Innocuous was an astronomy observation platform at the very top.

The west tower, jagged ruins that persisted to this day, had been brought down haphazardly by the Ministry investigation team while Lucius and Draco had been on trial. The rubble had effectively buried the dungeons.

Hermione did not know this history, but she could see the effects of age, and the ragged loss of the west tower. The once brilliantly white marble bricks were dulled by age, and the spells to maintain the marble clarity had been broken during the manor's occupation by Voldemort.

The once magnificent gardens that Louis Malfoi's wife Anjanette took such pride and work in were not as beautiful as they once were. Again, the war and the occupation had had its deleterious effect; many trees and plants had died from neglect, or Death Eaters that chose to revel like misbehaved children on the grounds had hexed many of the plants. Voldemort had decimated Lucius' prized flock of snowy peacocks by slaughtering them for meals.

Despite these setbacks, the centuries old mansion, even with its battle scars, still retained its pride and magnificence.

Hermione was suitably impressed.

The witch quickened her pace and soon she had stepped up onto the veranda and to the wide front door. One simple knock brought a house elf to stand between Hermione and the door.

Hermione introduced herself, and let the elf know that she wanted to talk to Lucius. The elf had vanished, but was soon returned. Without a by-your-leave the elf grasped her wrist, and with a stomach inducing lurch she and the elf Apparated to the main parlor…

And right into the object of her queries.

"_Professor! You are alive! I was right!"_

_Severus Snape, hale and hearty, and garbed in a rather informal outfit of a white silk shirt with puffed sleeves, a deep red, quilted velvet vest, and sharply creased black trousers, glared down at the witch who stood, gaping upward at him._

"_Close your mouth, Miss Granger," he snarled. "You look like an idiot."_

Lucius, not terribly concerned that his secret guest had been discovered, spoke from his chair, "May I offer you a brandy, Miss Granger? It ought to relax you."

Hermione closed her mouth, then replied, "A drink. Oh yes. Please."

"Severus, be the good host and pour a brandy for Miss Granger." Lucius stood and walked over to the witch, and drew her aside. "Do take a seat, Miss Granger."

Severus grit his teeth together, and did not hide the frown marring his features as he went to the sideboard where a crystal carafe of brandy sat surrounded by matching tumblers. He poured a measure of the amber liquid, brought it over to Hermione who was now seated.

"Yes, Miss Granger, I am alive," Severus snarled and shoved the tumbler at her. "Now show some manners and stop your gauche staring."

* * *

**A/N: Two chapters for you on Friday since I posted late, and chapter 5 was short.**


	7. Chapter 7

**MALFOY MANOR III**

After what felt like a long, and awkward silence in which Severus had carelessly plopped himself into a chair to stare sullenly at the fire, Lucius' eyes lazily drifted between Hermione and Severus. As for Hermione her gaze had drifted to her brandy but for the occasional quick glances she aimed at the sour man.

Finally, it was Hermione who broke the silence. "You're alive, Professor," she said softly.

"Yes. We had established that fact. Let me apprise you of another: I am not your teacher anymore, Miss Granger. I am no one's teacher. That past is behind me. You may address me as either Mr. Snape, or if you are so inclined, Master Snape in deference to my title as a Master of Potions." Severus had not turned away from the flames.

Lucius smirked. He spoke with a sarcastic drawl, "Guard that distinction with your life, dear friend."

"Shut up, Lucius," snapped Snape with real anger.

Lucius sat up stiffly. "No! She comes here, at none of my invitation, and discovers you here, and you're angry with me?"

"Considering the fact that you have been oh so subtle in harassing me with your belief that I ought to be publically presented…"

Lucius growled, "With caveats, my friend!"

Severus sneered, "... my annoyance is justified." He heard Hermione bite back part of a giggle that had escaped. "Careful, Miss Granger. I am not at all happy with your presence here. My business is none of yours, and like the Gryffindor you are, you have nosed in where you are not wanted."

Hermione was stung by the sharp words, but she persisted, "But, sir! You survived! Don't you think everyone ought to know that? What about Harry?"

Hermione shrank into her chair as Snape turned and aimed his gaze angrily at her. "I do not believe anyone, least of all that _Potter brat_, deserves to know what my fate was after the Final Battle!" He then stood, glided over to her and shook a finger in her face, "And you have no RIGHT to pry into my business."

Haphazardly Hermione protested, "But, sir! You lived!" She smiled hoping to deflect his ire. Unfortunately it only made it worse as before she knew it his wand tip was touching the end of her nose.

"Bloody, interfering Gryffindor! You are a snoop who wants her endless questions answered. Well, this time you are getting nothing. Leave this house, and by Merlin, you had best. Not. Return." Severus stormed out of the parlor.

Hermione slowly moved out of her paralysis, and Lucius, ever on the watch, caught the remainder of her brandy as it fell from her fingers. He sent the tumbler with a swipe of his wand to the kitchen, and then scooped the witch from the chair and to her feet with practised grace.

"Severus is a bit tetchy at the end of the month which is why I do the books, and he doesn't," Lucius interjected apologetically.

Hermione snapped out of her daze and looked to Lucius. "I insulted him! I didn't mean to, but there would be so many glad to know that he survived."

"You are delusional, Miss Granger," Lucius corrected flatly.

"But, he…"

"Are you not aware that Severus Snape murdered the most beloved wizard of our age?"

"He was acquitted!" shouted Hermione. "It wasn't murder."

"Ohhh yes, so the law says, but the common witch and wizard maintain that Severus Snape was a murderer, and as a Death Eater he was even more vile. If you are so blind to public opinion just have a second look at the articles in the Daily Prophet that _still_ run their scandalous lies three years after the war. Severus Snape is considered more evil than the Dark Lord." Lucius Summoned another brandy, and floated the tumbler over to her.

Hermione took the crystal glass, sipped lightly at the brandy, then ignored it. "I know that's not him, though, and he ought to show everyone that he isn't what they think he is."

"In a perfect world, Miss Granger," Lucius chuckled. "In a perfect world."

Hermione shook her head, and slumped in the chair. "I don't understand why he's hiding, though. He has a right to live..."

Lucius' narrowed his gaze at her. "Are you obtuse? The man is _not_ hiding. And, believe me, that stubborn arse _is_ living as is his right to choose." Lucius rose and made his way to the parlor entrance. "Talk to him, Miss Granger. At the very least, Merlin forbid, he could use another friend besides me. Gryffindor or not, you do appear to care a little about him." With that Lucius left without allowing her to reply.

For several minutes Hermione just sat where she was. She admitted to herself that she wanted others to know the Potions Master was alive, but how to convince him that she was right?


	8. Chapter 8

**MALFOY MANOR IV**

Severus touched his hand to a wall panel on the west side of the grand staircase that revealed a narrow entrance into the potions lab he and Lucius had built together as young men long before either of them became Death Eaters. It had been updated several times over the years, and Severus was pleased that, should anyone learn of it, his lab would be the envy of the eldest of Potions Masters in the wizarding world.

Not only was it his place of work, he had turned a corner of the lab into a sumptuous sanctuary with a wide chaise lounge with plush cushions, a deep pile rug that Severus had protected with various spells and charms that made it impervious to any accident it could be subject to in the lab. In that corner was a small bookcase for his secret indulgence - Muggle mysteries. Lastly was a small, granite topped, three-legged table where Severus often had tea late at night.

It was to this sanctuary that Severus retreated in a thoughtful snit. Dropping into the worn leather Chesterfield Queen Anne high-backed leather chair with a matching ottoman he stretched out his long legs, rested his clasped hands upon his belly, and leaned his head against the back of the chair. He closed his eyes, and let out a relieved sigh of air through his nose.

Severus was content to live his remaining days at Malfoy Manor, unless Lucius threw him out, something he knew would never happen. Lucius was a sentimental old bird who would be wallowing in the bosom of his family if Narcissa and Draco had not left him. As it was he and Severus both approached their bachelorhood in contented comfort.

Severus earned a respectable income with his owl-order business, and he was certain he had no desire to have an apothecary where the general public would see him, and stand in judgement of him.

_Yet, was he wrong? _His brow wrinkled in sudden annoyance.

Blast that curly-haired demoness for stirring up such thoughts!

Severus was alerted by a gentle chime. It was a clever spell he had created to let him know when Lucius was in the hallway with the hidden panel to his lab, and was looking for him. It was a simple twist upon the "wandering Slytherin spell" he had used upon his House when he had been a teacher. Another spell, very seldom used, let him "see" who was looking for him. As he suspected it was Hermione Granger.

An unwelcome thought flitted through his mind as he realised that somewhere between the Final Battle, and now, she had shed her little girl looks. Hermione Granger had become a full grown woman. And, she had been blessed with the curves most of the flat-planed, starved witches that had begun to permeate the fashionable youth of witchdom did not have. In fact, the witch of today seemed to embrace a waifish frame that spoke to him of neglect. It was, in a word, nauseating. Hermione Granger was thin, perhaps unhealthily so, but her frame held curves with promise.

Without really thinking about what he was doing Severus opened the hidden panel, and the door that led down to the lab. He then selected one of his favourite Sherlock Holmes stories, and began to read. In five minutes he heard Hermione's tentative footsteps on the stairs.

After leaving the parlor Hermione had struck out with purpose to go in search of the dour wizard but after several minutes she had wandered from a corridor back into the sumptuous main entrance - and she was lost.

It was hopeless to continue searching for someone who did not want to be found. Resigned to the fact that she would return to her job, and do her best to put knowledge of the found Potions Master out of her mind, Hermione started toward the front door when a slight creak stopped her. Looking over her shoulder she saw a panel of the seamless wall drift open with invitation into a stairwell let by torches.

Cautiously Hermione began down the steps. She hoped that at the end was the Potions Master. She wanted to understand, from him not Lucius, why he seemed content to cloister himself in the manor. It was not her business, but she truly felt that Professor Snape was not living his life to its potential.

Turning the last spiral of the iron staircase she heard a deep voice rumble from the depths ahead, "You might as well come and join me, Miss Granger."

Hermione stuck her head in, and could not hold back an impressed gasp at the room before her. Three white, marble-topped work tables dominated the long room with the curved ceiling. Vents in the stonework ceiling dotted it and Hermione guessed those led to the fresh air outside.

Upon the work tables were various potions brewing, apparati bubbling and steaming; not a still motion to be seen. Then, one wall was dominated by several arcane charts having to do with potions, flora and magical fauna. The most magnificent chart was Father Brown's Chart of Magical Flora, and beside it was the colourful Cadfael's Essential Medicinal Herbs. A little sinister was the eerily titled chart Morgana's Designation of Brain Specifics.

Two walls were shelves of potions in various bottles, tins, and clay receptacles; books, scrolls, and journals meticuously organised, non-volatile potions ingredients, and every variety of cauldron, stirrer, pipette, knife, measuring spoons, and more tools needed for the best Potions Master's use.

"Well, Miss Granger?" asked Severus with slight, smug pride. As annoying as the young woman had been as a student she alone had the mind to appreciate his lab.

"This is impressive!" breathed Hermione, her eyes sparkling with wonder and jealousy. "It's like nothing I've ever seen! It must be like Heaven for you to work here, sir." She tore her gaze from the lab and looked toward the soft chuckle echoing between the rough granite walls. She found the wizard in a corner of the lab which had been luxuriously appointed.

Severus pointed to the one unoccupied chair, one that matched his, which Lucius generally sat in. "Join me?"

Hermione moved obediently, then seated herself gingerly. Severus was soon handing her a steaming cup of tea that she had not seen before. Taking it, she sniffed appreciatively at the aroma; a mix of chamomile, lavender, and something she could not identify that evoked the sense of Spring. She sipped the tea and smiled. The taste was divine!

"I've never had anything like this, sir. What is it?" she asked politely.

"My own blend designed for relaxation. Not a Calming Potion, mind," he quickly added as a slight sneer touched a corner of his mouth.

Hermione took another sip. "I really didn't think you'd ever slip me a potion, sir…" she sighed at his hard stare. "Sir… I…"

"If you have come down here to apologise for sticking your opinion where it was not invited, then by all means, do so," he ordered with false magnanimity. "If, however, you are here to continue your bid to dictate to me the way I am to run my life, then you might as well save your breath, and…"

Hermione slowly lowered her cup of tea, and her glare grew to the epic proportion nearly every Gryffindor meant that someone was in trouble. "Look, I know I overstepped my bounds but that's no reason for you to be condescending and rude!"

"Is it not?" snarled Severus. "Once again Miss Granger has to know it all, and to understand, and to interfere because her own life just is _not… interesting... enough_." The wizard smiled thinly at his cruelty.

Hermione stood up so abruptly she was not aware of her tea cup falling to the floor where it crashed upon the slate floor, and shattered. Severus, with a swipe of his wand, vanished the mess. In occupying his magic with that he was caught off guard when Hermione slapped his cheek with incredible force.

"Bloody hell, woman!" Severus cursed. "What the hell is the matter with you?!" He had scrambled to his feet, and towered menacingly over her.

Hermione did not back down. She even took one step closer to him. "What do you think, you arrogant git?!" she shouted back at him. "I can see that _death_ did nothing to improve your manners. You're as mean, and patronising as you were as a teacher!" With a decisive swish of her robes she stepped away. "If you want to live holed up in this dusty, old mansion for the rest of your life, then enjoy!" She stomped with a finality towards the open door of the potions lab.

Severus watched the young witch depart in a justified snit, his lips pressed thin so hard they were a bloodless white. Hermione disappeared through the door, and Severus lurched towards her.

"Wait! Miss Granger!" He jogged towards the door, and stopped as he saw her standing on on the third step, her back to him.

"What do you want, Snape?" she growled. "I'm not in the mood to sit around, and let you insult me any more."

"Miss Granger, I…" seeing as how he almost reached out to touch her arm, the wizard slapped his hands behind his back, and clasped his hands together. "My behavior was shoddy, Miss Granger. I realise that your curiosity is simply a concern for myself. If you would, return, and finish tea with me?"

Slowly Hermione turned, walked down the three steps, and passed in front of the Potions Master. Once she had reseated herself in the corner, he followed, conjured a new cup, and from a teapot she had not seen earlier, he filled the cup with fresh tea, and handed it to her.

Hermione sipped, sighed, and then muttered, "Thank you, sir."

For a long moment there was silence between witch and wizard but for the noise of both delicately sipping their tea, and the mutterings of various potions experiments around the lab. After her tea was nearly half gone, Hermione cleared her throat, and ventured to speak.

"Sir, it's been three years since the end of the war… I think… well, isn't there more that you want to do with your life than just…" she waved her hand around at the lab. "Do you really just want to brew potions here for the rest of your life?"

Severus watched the young woman carefully, and studiously as he read her body language. She was being sincere in both her question, and her curiosity. As a teacher he could have stomped mercilessly upon such courage, but these were latter days, and truth be told, he wanted to speak to someone other than Lucius.

"I suppose it is natural to want more, but what am I to expect when I pick up the Daily Prophet and am regaled with my misdeeds, and the truth of my motivations were, and how the Boy-Who-Lived manipulated the portrait of Albus Dumbledore to lie for him, and his cause?" replied Severus.

"It doesn't matter, though, sir! We know…!"

Severus almost slammed his fist upon the arm of his chair, but he slowly uncurled the frustration of his fingers, and lay his hand palm down upon his thigh. "You know. Potter knows. Even that immoral redheaded menace knows. It is the wizarding world at large that, even though they read the posthumous trial transcripts still believe me to be evil, and a murderer."

Hermione sighed in defeat. She had read the articles in the Daily Prophet. The first year after the war she had irritated both Ron and Harry because she became so upset, and angry at the slanderous things that were said about Severus Snape. After that disastrous week when Hermione caught Ron cheating on her right in their own flat, she had forgotten the articles. Much later, though, she read them, and hated them, but she kept her anger and upset to herself.

Hermione fumed at how the wizard misconstrued her meaning on purpose. "I meant, people know what you did for us. The transcripts from the trial…" she stopped as Snape rose from his chair, went to the other side of the room where his desk was, and took something from within. He strode over, and dropped a newspaper from yesterday onto her lap.

Gently, almost reluctantly, Severus added, "I need not mention that Ms. Skeeter has done little for your reputation."

Hermione laughed, once but it was sharp, and dark.

The end of the war had brought weeks of celebration, accolades, and promises made; but they were manufactured out of the high emotion of that time. When it came down to it Hermione found herself nearly broke, her parents lost in Australia and the Ministry was too wrapped up in red tape, and its own problems to help her find them. She was suddenly a young woman with nothing but the word "hero" tacked onto the end of her name, and no place to live.

At the time of her and Ron's living together in a nice flat near Harry's home of #12 Grimmauld Place she had been working in the Ministry's fascinating division of Historical Research. It was a plum job she had received as a gift from the Minister of Magic for being one of the "Golden Trio". The heroine of the war.

Ron's cheating had blown up across the gossipy headlines of the Daily Prophet, and Rita Skeeter had revelled in Hermione's shame. The articles led to the loss of her perfect job, and to a closet office as a filing clerk.

"It isn't fair," Hermione mumbled plaintively. She slumped like a wet noodle in her chair.

"Short of emigration, there is nothing to be done."

"If _I_ had the money, _I'd_ go," said Hermione. "There's nothing but memories here, and most of them aren't terribly nice ones."

"I do have the money, but I have no inclination to relocate, and acclimate myself to another clime. The British Isles were where I was born, and I shall stay."

"Cooped up forever in Malfoy Manor," Hermione added with sour sarcasm.

Severus frowned at the witch. Finishing his tea, he ended their little confrontation with the quip, "And Miss Granger, the destitute doormouse will attend to filing, and smiling."

Hermione sneered at him.


	9. Chapter 9

**MALFOY MANOR V**

"All right, sir," sighed Hermione. "I'll admit that by the media your reputation is not as sterling as I believe it is. But, even so, why should their opinion stop you from doing what you want? I may be a 'poor dormouse' but I am earning my own living, and as tough as it is, I do believe it will get better."

"And by what assumption have you followed to believe that what I want I do not already have, Miss Granger?" he snapped back.

"Unless there is something more than friendship between you, and Mr. Malfoy, why would you want to live here with him for the rest of your life?" Her cheeks coloured slightly.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Believe me, Miss Granger, Lucius is far from what I would _EVER_ want." His voice lowered to a brittle warning, "And you... are treading... the thread of polite inquiry... to the point of breaking it."

"I'm sorry, sir. It's just that you just don't strike me as a man of leisure." Hermione knew she was simply making a mess of things, and could not understand why the Potions Master was being so uncharacteristically… patient with her. He could have simply refused to speak to her. After hexing her with boils!

Suddenly Severus laughed. "Man of leisure?!" he gasped through the rich sound echoing in his lab. Hermione's cheeks definitely coloured, and right down to her shoulders this time. She dropped her head just as the wizard's gaze settled upon her. In that moment Severus was afforded a tantalising glimpse of her neck as her curls spilled away from it. Rather sharply it occurred to him that she had grown into quite a lovely young woman.

Squashing the inappropriate thoughts that were suddenly tumbling through his mind, Severus coughed discreetly, and darkened his tone as he informed her, "I am hardly sitting about idly, Miss Granger. I have quite a successful owl-order potions business that keeps me occupied much of the week. It would be more if Lucius did not insist upon my consumption of three meals a day, and three evenings a week of no brewing."

Hermione giggled, "Taskmaster, is he?"

Severus smirked, "You have no idea." Letting his body sink into the chair the wizard felt relaxed. He had been tense the moment the witch arrived, but this tiny sharing of an amusement established an accord between them. A thin accord, but it was there, and Severus felt a depth within him that wanted a stronger, more secure… rapport.

The silence was momentarily comfortable, but then the tenseness hovered nearby. Hermione spoke carefully. "Sir, I…"

"Severus. You have my leave to call me Severus. This formality between us…" He shook his head. "It is bothersome."

Hermione nodded, and breathed an almost sigh of relief. The permission to call him as an equal broke a wall between them of student and teacher. "Severus. Would you then call me Hermione?"

He dipped his head once. "It would be my privilege to do so, Hermione." It was tantalisingly shocking to taste her name upon his tongue. Never in all of his years teaching had he ever acknowledged that his students had first names. To do so invited an intimacy he had never wanted.

She smiled, shyly but brilliantly. Severus noted it was that smile she had reserved only for her friends. He did not smile in return but she noted a softness, an acceptance, deep within the darkness of his gaze.

With more confidence Hermione spoke, "It does appear to me as though you have been hiding, sir… Severus. It's been three years, everyone still believes you to be dead. Is that really the way you want things to be?"

"You have not lived with the constant, daily derision of your peers, Hermione. I do not face that here." Severus looked around his lab. It was his world; a good world. Not… a prison.

"You're wrong," Hermione asserted softly.

Severus frowned at her. Whatever could she mean? She was one of the Trio, a heroine, an elite.

"I'm Muggle-born." Hermione took a breath and rolled up her left sleeve to reveal on the inside of her arm a sharply, and deeply carved curse scar; a gift from Bellatrix LeStrange. She showed it to Severus who gasped inwardly and dropped from his chair to his knees in front of the young woman. He took her forearm gingerly into his hands.

"Mudblood," he whispered hoarsely.

"Every single day at Hogwarts I was reminded that I was less than everyone else. There were a few insults from Slytherin, but not after the first few days…"

"I reminded my Snakes that if that word was ever heard from their mouths, my punishment would be swift, and harsh," he whispered. His fingers lightly touched the scar, and tracing the lines. Hermione shuddered, and he looked up into her eyes. "You were still bullied by my Snakes?"

The witch shook her head. "Not the Slytherins, no. Mostly it was Ravenclaw, a few in Hufflepuff, but there were several in my own House that didn't like me." She chuckled dryly. "And, not because I was a know-it-all."

Severus nodded knowingly. The bullying towards himself had been as a student as well. His gaze dropped again to the scar. "And this? Was this done by one of those vile students?" The tautness tingeing his voice threatened retribution.

Hermione smiled softly and removed her forearm from his hands. She rolled down the sleeve to remove the scar from sight. "Bellatrix LeStrange. When the Snatchers found us in the Forest of Dean they brought us to her."

Severus scowled up at her. "Bellatrix was here at that time." He snarled, "The Dark Lord professed that a "family" ought to all be together before the dawn of war." Again he looked up into the depths of Hermione's deep amber eyes. He saw in them old, remembered pain; pain that was so like his own. "How did you even face coming here?"

Hermione leaned over and encouraged him to rise by touching his upper arm. He did so, and when Severus returned to the chair she replied, "Malfoy Manor is where I was tortured but it was not the house that tortured me; it was Bellatrix." She smiled ruefully. "Molly Weasley was saving her daughter, but she saved me, too, when she killed that evil creature."

Feeling the need to move Hermione stood and wandered around the lab. "Besides, if it hadn't been for Draco, and his father, me, Harry, Ron, Luna, Griphook, and Ollivander would never have escaped that dungeon. I learned later that Lucius changed the access spells to the entrance of our dungeon to confuse our guards, and it was Draco who provided a diversion for our escape."

"Now _that_ is not common knowledge," mused Severus.

Hermione shook her head as she wandered over to something that was bubbling quietly amongst a beautiful network of glass funnels, drip pots, small copper pipes, and a crystal spiral that practically encompassed the entire apparatus. She had never seen anything like it in Potions class and the slow flow of the clear liquid into a final, fluorescent blue liquid that dripped lazily into an interior glazed container.

"No… it isn't," Hermione mumbled as she watched the liquid tumble mesmerically from a drip pot to a large pipette, to a long glass tube, and out the top into a large cauldron of iron and steel. "What… is… oh!"

Hermione turned and was startled to find that Severus Snape had silently taken up a position behind her, and just to her right. To her sudden puzzlement he drew in a breath with his nose as he was bent slightly at the waist to reach her shoulder. As he straightened he elucidated.

"It is a perfume. My own blend. I sell it, and a line of shampoo, conditioner, and lotion in a perfumery in Paris." Severus delicately lifted a curl of Hermione's hair, brought it to his nose, sniffed lightly, then smiled as he dropped the curl.

"P-perfume?" Something told the witch she ought to just back up so they could remain formal in their discussion, but another part of her stubbornly wanted to remain. He tummy flipped-flopped as it never had when she had been with Ron.

Severus leaned in closer.

Hermione ducked and slipped away from the wizard. She glared angrily at him, though her heart beat rapidly for another reason she could not name. "What are you doing, Snape?!" His sudden turnaround from such heated anger, to the odd resignation, and now this... uncharacteristic attention. Hermione was not as confused as the wizard... the slimy Slytherin, apparently wanted her to be! "You're flirting with me?!"

Severus leaned a hip against the worktable, and crossed his arms over his chest. He openly smirked.

"Is that not what I was to infer by your wanting to prove me alive and to present me to… society, Miss Granger? That perhaps you wanted a bit more than just a few, intrusive questions answered?" He turned to wave a hand over the brewing perfume. All bubbling, and brewing died down, and then was quiet. He checked the clay flask, corked it, and with a wave of his wand he had sealed the bottle with black wax.

Hermione stared at Snape. She did not know whether to settle with confusion, anger, or just to be insulted. Resisting stomping her foot in frustration as she did as a child, she started to leave. She was at the door when she looked back at the wizard. He nodded to her smugly, and then simply dismissed her by returning to his work.

Hermione fumed. That simple dismissal, that disregard Snape's figure presented got under her skin like nothing else. Curling her fingers into fists she strode over until she was right beside him.

Severus sensed her first, and continuing on with his subtle not so subtle knowing flirt he casually turned to face her. "Well, so it…!"

**SMACK!**

The slap echoed into the lab, and the smack caught Snape so off guard that it knocked him back on his arse. Anger hot in his dark gaze Severus glowered up at her.

"You bloody git!" she hissed. "I came here to see if you were alive because I WAS thinking of you, but not… _that way._ What happened to you was unfair to say the least, and the dismissal by you, and all you did for the wizarding world is their crime, _NOT YOURS!_" She stomped away, and stood by the door. Hermione turned back just as the wizard was drawing himself to his feet.

Steely determination, and maybe a reckless decision gave Hermione the last word. "Hide… like the world thinks you should! You… _coward._"

Severus' blood pressure burst at the word "coward". He wanted to hex that bloody witch but she successfully eluded his wand by slamming the door in his face.


	10. Chapter 10

Lucius had dressed and was now fully outfitted in a dove grey suit of silk wool. The trousers had been creased to within an inch of their fabric, and the coat was a stylish waist frock coat with elegant tails. The coat had been lined with brushed, grey satin. Under the suit coat was a crisp, softened linen shirt with heavy lace at the cuffs that spilled out negligently around the cuffs of the coat. Topping off the outfit was a silvery-grey, quilted, very fitted vest with a silver fob attached to a rather worn pocket watch.

Severus glanced disdainfully at Lucius as he plopped into the wingback chair he had designated as his.

"I see you are off to do the grocery shopping, Lucius," Severus rolled the comment off his tongue smugly.

Lucius adjusted the lace on his right arm. "Very droll, Severus. The larder is quite full. I am meeting, again, with the Minister for Magic in regards to re-instating me upon the Board of Governors of Hogwarts."

"I do not understand why you bother, Lucius. You are an ex-Death Eater, and an ex-convict. You, personally, are responsible for Minister Shackelbolt's limp."

"I blasted him out of the way of a Killing Curse thrown by MacNair." Lucius tapped Severus annoyingly on the head with his snake-headed cane. "And, if you will recall a Bone Crushing Curse was also the only way to send Dolohov to _Abbadon_."

"So you say. I was busy bleeding out on the floor of the Shrieking Shack," grumbled Severus.

Lucius smiled grimly. "Merely a temporary situation, Severus. As are these seemingly endless meetings. Kingsley must know for himself that I am not doing this to simply corrupt young minds. I was making a difference when I was on the Board, and I intend to do so again."

Lucius swiftly left the parlor, but then stuck his head back in. "By the by, my friend, you were absolutely beastly to Miss Granger." With that last word he left. A moment later he could hear the nearly quiet pop of an Apparation.

Hermione touched her cheeks. Two hours later and they still felt hot with incensed blood. She put her hands down and wished, not for the thousandth time, that she knew what had happened to Crookshanks after the war. She missed that big, old furry orange cat. Especially when she was so mad.

She had been curious, and she did want to know that she was right about the wizard… but that was all? Right?

Her mind, traitorous thing that it was, flitted back to one of those evenings in which she and Ron had spent arguing about their old teacher.

"_... he wasn't there, Ron!" Hermione insisted._

_Ron, tired of this argument, slouched deeper into the worn couch that matched other worn, used furniture in their one room flat. "Death Eaters could have found him, Hermione. Harry's told you this. Just because there was no body doesn't mean the git traipsed off with those injuries. La di dah!"_

"_But you don't know that, Ron!"_

"_Neither do you!" Ron's fists hit the cushions of the couch and knocked his precariously balanced drink glass to the floor. The glass shattered. "Bloody hell!" Ron heard a sniffle, and suddenly stood, and ignored the broken glass. "Gods, Hermione! You're crying? Over a dead man?" Ron strode over to the door, grabbed his cloak, and slammed out of the front door._

_Hermione wiped her nose, and swiped the tears away. She knew she was not crying at Ron's anger, but she could not tell you why she wept. All she knew was that it was all so unfair. No one seemed to care about what had happened to the man that had been instrumental in turning the tide of the war._

_Nobody cared._

But she _did_ care. Then, and now. She still read the Daily Prophet when her friends had stopped, and thought it was just horrid the things that Rita Skeeter and her little sycophants on the editorial page still wrote three years later. She never understood that and could not help herself when she griped about the injustice to Harry. Ron, when they were both still speaking, simply would not listen to her the moment Snape's name was mentioned. Harry was a little different, he listened, then turned the subject to whatever was on his mind. Currently, for Harry, that was Ginny Weasley who had become like a stalker to him for a short while after the war. Ginny upon her leaving Hogwarts had finally abandoned her pursuit of Harry, and gone to join the Holyhead Harpies when they recruited her.

Harry still thought of Ginny, and lately he could not stop babbling about her. Hermione was sympathetic, but she could not drift away for long from speculation about Severus Snape's mysterious disappearance. Harry only had so much patience regarding mention of Snape so sometimes he simply pretended he was not home.

So, Hermione, now that her anger had settled and she had a bag of salty pretzels to soothe herself tried again to figure out what had happened with Snape at Malfoy Manor.

And, really could not.


	11. Chapter 11

**MALFOY MANOR - A few days later**

Snape fumed. Something he was rather good at. He had been beastly to the girl but he'd had a right to, had he not? Here he was quite content to live his life in peaceful anonymity, and then she barges in with the belief she had the right to pry into his life, and to question why he was not out in the world decrying the vituperation of his spiteful detractors.

In the parlour Severus slouched down more into his chair after taking a good measure of his brandy. Lucius had removed the fire whiskey (its alcoholic properties as opposed to Muggle alcohol was incendiary, to say the least), and so the dark wizard was now reduced to the weaker effects of the brandy. Basically, it took a lot more to settle himself into a _right pissed mode_, and before that happened Lucius' clever magic intervened, and Severus' liquor usage was cut-off. Consequently, he not only had to face his thoughts more, but his nightmares had been returning; nightmares he could not chase away with Dreamless Sleep due to its extremely addictive properties.

So, nightmares and Miss Granger. Severus was now caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place. The nightmares he could do little about, but perhaps he could do something about that twitchy witch. He was unaware of the slight curl of his lip as his thoughts pleasantly settled upon the young woman's curvier assets.

Hermione glared at the small refrigerator that sat in the corner of her living room that served as her "kitchen". On top of the refrigerator were her dishes - a plate, knife, fork, spoon, and a jelly cup. Sitting on a short cabinet was a hot plate for the few meals she did heat up. Opening the refrigerator door her frown deepened. She had hoped for the ingredients of a salad but there was nothing but a rather ragged looking piece of lettuce. In the tiny freezer was her only other meal alternative which was a pint of cookie dough ice cream.

Hermione switched her glance to her hips, and smacked her hand against her left hip. She knew her nutrition was abhorrent. She also knew she had a terrible sweet tooth, and would eat waffles with syrup over a chicken salad. It was her dip in funds that made sure her curves had not fallen into obesity.

This poor diet, and lack of a proper kitchen was one reason she wound up at Harry's home 4 to 5 nights a week. Of course, Harry was a terrible shopper, and he had a diet that was as bad as hers. More than once Hermione told Harry he needed a wife to keep him healthy. Harry had jokingly countered that she needed a husband to restore her to healthy habits.

Of course, the last time she had visited and told Harry he needed a wife, he had glared at her, and refused to talk to her throughout their whole meal. Hermione later learned that the "Stalker Weasley" no longer was stalking Harry. She was now firmly ensconced with the Holyhead Harpies, and she now had quite a number of fans, and no longer was bothered with thought of Harry. As for Harry, he almost seemed to miss the twisted attention!

Slamming the door of the useless refrigerator shut Hermione walked over to the clothes tree where her one of her few luxuries hung; a beautiful cotton-wool blend cloak in dark blue. It had also come with gloves, a scarf, and a hat for Winter.

It was then she was deterred by a knock at her door. Expecting her landlady Hermione strode to the door, opened it quickly,...

"Would you like to go to dinner?"


	12. Chapter 12

**Voldemort's Assassin - Chapter 12**

**Ale!**

Hermione felt her jaw drop as she stared at Severus Snape on her doorstep. "What?" Of course she had heard the invitation but she was, to use Harry's favourite word: gobsmacked. She needed a moment to gather her senses.

Severus' spine stiffened and he shifted his arms so that his hands clasped behind his back, "I was... rude earlier..."

"You were confusing!" blurted Hermione angrily. "Then… two days pass, and now you invite me to dinner?!"

Severus frowned, and was about to correct her recollection of events when he chose not to. Instead he agreed. "I will not dispute that. What matters is that I wish to make amends, and to present a more agreeable side of myself by inviting you to share dinner with me... Hermione."

"I..." Hermione stumbled over her acceptance, but then nodded. "All right. But, nothing fancy, please. I don't have the clothes for it. Where do you have in mind, sir... I mean, Severus?"

With a flourish of his wand, his black coat became a shortened, black wool peacoat. The frock coat was gone but the white shirt remained. "I am rather fond of a little Muggle eatery that is not far from the Manor."

"Nice trick," nodded Hermione with sincerity at his magic. "I sort of don't have an outdoor coat for the Muggle world anymore..." she sighed softly, and shrugged her shoulders under her blue cloak.

Severus studied the dark blue cloak. It was suitable for Hogsmeade, and Diagon Alley, but it possibly was not fashionable for Muggle Manchester. With a flourish of his wand (his magic was silent, and that impressed Hermione) her cloak became a simple, dark blue coat that fell to her knees. She smiled her thanks.

The "eatery" was down a dreary alley near where Severus Apparated them both. It was a pub that looked unassuming, perhaps even a bit of a dive, Hermione mused, but as soon as he opened the heavy wooden door of drearily stained oak she was met by warmth from a fireplace, a long bar that was serving a dozen patrons (all working men and women), and a scattering of tables where food, and drink was being served to patrons by waitresses wearing white shirts, and black trousers.

Severus took Hermione's coat, and his own, and hung both on a wooden clothes tree near the fireplace. With a gentleman's hand to her back he directed her to his favourite table in the corner, and near the fire. Hermione did notice the bartender nodded at Snape, and a waitress immediately came over to them as they sat, and greeted the wizard warmly.

"Evenin' Professor." The dark blonde waitress smiled at Hermione. "Lady friend?"

"This is Hermione Granger," he introduced in an affable tone of voice Hermione did not associate with the dour Severus Snape. "Hermione, this is Gretchen. Her father owns this establishment."

Gretchen nodded her head, and smiled brilliantly. "Welcome to Patters, Hermione!"

Under her breath she hissed to Severus, "She knows you!" Severus only smirked smugly. Hermione glowered, but then turned, and smiled up at Gretchen. "Thank you. What's good here?"

"Mum's worked up some nice beef pies tonight. Care for some?" Both witch and wizard nodded; Hermione with the enthusiasm of an excited stomach. "Bitter Ale as usual, Professor?" asked Gretchen.

"For me, yes. Hermione?" he inquired politely.

"Oh! I've never had ale! I'll have one, too." Hermione enthused.

"I am getting the bitter which is Patters most favoured ale. It might be a bit much for your taste-buds, Hermione," Severus warned.

Hermione nodded in determination. "Bitter, please." Gretchen nodded, and left to get their orders. Lowering her voice Hermione added, "Harry and Ron can't seem to get past butterbeer, and that's so sweet it sickens me."

Severus leaned back in his chair, obviously comfortable in this cosy pub. "I had one butterbeer when I was a student. I thought it atrocious and never ventured near the drink again." He smirked knowingly. "Have you ever indulged in Muggle alcohol, Hermione?"

Hermione shook her head as if to say no, but then reconsidered. "Well, yes, I think so. Mum always shared a bit of her wine with me at Christmas, nothing more, though. Severus, you seem to be familiar here..." Hermione implied.

Severus hesitated, then spoke carefully, "The night of my... initiation was a cruel, and painful one. I left the wizarding world, and was found by Gretchen's father, Alexander. I was not in a mood for medical assistance, and so Alexander allowed me to indulge in the ale."

"You got pissed." Hermione stole a glance at his left forearm. Severus suddenly rolled up both sleeves of his shirt. On his left forearm was the faded to white Dark Mark which resembled no more than the scar of a bad tattoo. "You still have it!" she gasped.

"Some scars will never leave us, Hermione." He sighed in mourning as his fingers brushed over the old Dark Mark; the sign of him having been a Death Eater.

Severus did not miss the subconscious rubbing Hermione did of her own left forearm. The curse scar Bellatrix had… lovingly… imparted to the young witch.

"Ours are scars that are difficult to forget," muttered Severus.

"Even beyond her death Bellatrix didn't want me to forget what I was. If there's a hell, I hope she's burning in it." Hermione slowly rolled down her sleeve.

Severus nodded sharply, and added, "No doubt she is right beside the Dark Lord burning with him."

Gretchen arrived at that moment with home-churned butter, and sweet hard rolls. The waitress then assured them that the pies were on their way as she put down generous tankards of ale in front of each of them. As soon as Gretchen left Hermione grabbed the tankard and drank down a heavy measure of the potent ale before Severus could warn her about its strong taste.

Hermione slammed down the tankard and coughed wretchedly. Severus stood from his chair and gently patted her back. "I am sorry, Hermione. I wanted to warn you since this was your first ale."

"Oh! My! God!" Hermione coughed. "That's not Butterbeer!" She laughed at herself.

Severus allowed himself a small chuckle, and leaned closer to the witch's ear. He whispered, "Try another sip, but slowly. It is an... acquired taste."

Hermione picked up the tankard, glanced warily down into the benign looking liquid, and then did as Severus advised; she sipped... slowly. She smiled tentatively then took another, bolder sip. This time she savoured the ale. She found its scent to be earthy but the taste was gently sweet, somewhat fruity but with a balancing bite. A third sip settled the warmth of alcohol pleasantly in her belly. Her smile was now graced by a sigh of visceral pleasure.

Severus knew that the novice to Muggle alcohol needed something on her stomach or she would quickly be in her cups. He grabbed a hard, sweet roll, tore it in half, and generously imparted home-churned butter to one half. He then leaned over the table and offered the witch the bread.

"Save the ale for the pie. In the meantime, have some of this exceptional bread."

Hermione stared longingly at her ale, but the roll looked equally enticing so she took it. Taking a large bite, she sighed as a touch of homemade heaven treated her tastebuds.

She soon finished off the roll, and Severus, who quite admired her unabashed appetite proffered the buttered other half of the roll to Hermione.

"This place is a treasure," remarked Hermione as she took a modest sip of her ale. "I'm glad that someone found you after such a traumatic... event."

"My initiation," he corrected softly. His fingertips lightly brushed his left forearm, and then he took a long draught of the ale which emptied the tankard. He tapped it twice on the table, and another waitress drifted speedily by with a refill. "Receiving the Dark Mark was no less devastating than what Bellatrix did to you." With a nod he indicated Hermione's left forearm that she had begun to scratch at. He took a bolstering drag of the Bitter Ale. "I knew, possibly the second that evil burned into my arm, that I had done something beyond idiocy; I had ended my life. All I knew was that I could not go home, and before I knew where I was an older man had stopped me. He was concerned that I was bleeding. That night, Gretchen's father took me home, and I stayed here until Lucius found me."

"Alexander and his wife Yvette offered me a home, and a kindness I had not known..." Severus' voice faded.

"Would you have stayed?" asked Hermione.

"You would think that I could have made a good life here but this was not where I wanted to live. I was still young, and in thrall to Tom Riddle's vision that was to better the wizarding world. It was quite some time before it sunk in that his visions were not so beneficent but more crude in that Voldemort desired the annihilation of all Muggles and Muggle-borns."

The pall that fell over them both was thankfully erased as Gretchen arrived with two impressive looking beef pies, a side of steamed mixed vegetables, more rolls, and a replenishment of their ales.

The arrival of food put the past in the past and for the next hour they ate and discussed such things that were of interest to both.

And, they both had several more Bitter Ales...

* * *

**A/N: I am familiar with the fact that there are many types of ales but this chapter is not a discourse on ales, and the one that Severus and Hermione drink is based on only one that I know of, that I had at the Hermann, MO Beer-Garden back when I was not old enough to be drinking such a spirit. It was brewed at a local winery and was simply called Bitter Ale. I described it in the chapter as I tasted it back then.**

**And, believe me, I got well and truly pissed on just two Bitter Ales. Much to the chagrin of my parents.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Voldemort's Assassin - Chapter 13**

**It's A Lovely Day!**

Hermione blearily opened her eyes. She closed them immediately as the sun barged through her curtains, and assaulted her eyes.

Oh my! Her head hurt! She swiped at a ticklish strand of silk brushing her cheek. Turning away from the light she bumped into something a bit soft, but a bit firm. The something moved, and with a thwump she rolled right to the edge, and fell from her bed onto the wooden floor.

"OW!" she cried.

"Must you?" mumbled the thing that had flipped her from her bed.

Hermione sat up - which normally would have been quickly but her throbbing head prevented such an extreme action. Looking over the edge of the bed she was faced with a shower of black hair that drifted from the steady breath of an impressive nose.

She blinked several times, and moved several obscuring curls of her own hair out of her eyes. She reached forward and gingerly moved aside the strands of dark hair. In the back of her mind she registered that they were the silkiness that she had felt on her cheek.

Uncovering the face she gulped as she was met with an endlessly black gaze.

"What are you doing on the floor of my bedroom, Miss Granger?" his voice was rough, and he scowled at her.

"This is _my_ bedroom. What are you doing in my bed... _sir_?" she countered with a suitable sneer.

Ponderously Severus sat up. He realised he was still clothed with the exception of his Transfigured pea coat which lay on the floor partially on top of Hermione's coat. He glared down at her with the sole intent of offering her a scathing tongue lashing but was halted by the irritating presence of a spectacular hangover.

"This is not my bedroom..." he muttered as he looked around at the narrow room that consisted of three walls, one with a window, and the other a half wall with an opening that gave a view of a small sitting room.

"It's mine." Hermione picked herself up from the floor, and dropped beside the wizard.

Severus moved off the bed, wavered slightly on his feet, and leaned against one of the posts of the four poster bed. "Do you have Hangover Potion?"

Hermione shook her head, and instantly regretted having done so. She fell sideways on the bed. Her muffled voice answered, "Can't afford it. I've got aspirin, and coffee. Cabinet." she pointed over the half wall towards her sitting room. "Coffee's there, too."

Severus sneered at her, then looked for the doorway, and made his way to the sitting room. The cabinet was next to and old-fashioned wood-burning stove with two iron heating plates. On one plate was an old metal teapot with a blue enamel surface. He found the aspirin and the coffee in the cabinet, and drew those out. He did not see a sink, and glared because he did not feel like using his wand to produce water.

Grumbling, he dropped the pot back on the stove, and was about to open the bottle of aspirin when he saw that his left sleeve had been cut away. Upon his left forearm the Dark Mark had been replaced by a rather handsome, stylistic tribal mark of a raven tattoo.

"Bloody hell!" he roared.

"Hermione having heard the pot drop, then the wizard's subsequent growling, propelled herself, stumbling gracelessly, from her bedroom at his exclamation. "What is it?!"

"What did you do to me, Miss Granger?!" Severus demanded as he shoved the tattoo under her nose.

"I didn't do that... _SEV_erus! I don't know how to do a magical tattoo!" She shoved at his chest to push him away, and grimaced as his tall body did not have the good manners to move.

"Indeed you don't," he snarled snatching his arm back so he could examine the raven. He eyed the slight reddishness around the tattoo, and the corresponding swelling. "This is Muggle. A magical tattoo would not be able to cover the Dark Magic in the Dark Mark.

Hermione sighed. "I like your raven."

Severus grumbled, which she took as agreement. "Your sleeve has been cut away, too, Miss... _Hermione_." he pointed at the missing sleeve of her jumper.

Hermione glanced down at her bare arm in dismay. "That was my favourite jumper! What did you do?"

"Not me," Severus gruffed. "If I am not mistaken, it appears you are marked as am I."

Turning her arm to the inner part of her forearm Hermione could see that the hated word-scar of _Mudblood_ had been covered by a twisted green vine with thorns that surrounded a rose. She smiled. It was beautiful.

"It is a pleasing improvement," Severus remarked seriously.

"As is yours." For a moment they each forgot the pain of their hangovers and studied the results of a nearly forgotten evening. "We had too much ale," giggled Hermione.

"I would have to agree as it appears my memory is rather hazy of this activity," sighed the wizard.

"I sort of remember you saying the evening was too short, and that we needed a walk." Hermione frowned at the fleeting memory.

"Hm. I seem to recall that our path took us past a tattoo artist's parlour..." Severus frowned, then gave Hermione a scandalised look as a memory of last night flashed behind his eyes. "You wanted a snake on your arm?"

"I did not!" she disagreed sharply. A moment later she returned the look of scandal with one of teasing of her own, and accused, "Well, you wanted a jiggly nude witch!"

Severus smirked, and winked, "Oh yes... and you offered to model for it, did you not, Hermione?"

Hermione blushed a deep red, and muttered, "Did not." The silence was awkward, yet brief as she added in a near whisper, "But, I would have."

Severus did hear what Hermione said, and he was startled by the pleasant flip-flop of warmth in his belly. He stepped closer to her, but then he felt a much lower warmth that caused a dusky crimson to shade his cheeks. He turned abruptly for the front door, and strode towards it.

"Er... dinner... yes... well. It was pleasant. Goodbye, Miss Granger."

Before Hermione could stop him her door was slammed behind his vanishment. She sighed, and mentally kicked herself for voicing out loud what her thoughts had been thinking. With resignation she looked down at her tattoo, and wondered why it was a rose with thorns.

* * *

**a/n: Representations of their tats if you are interested are on my Tumblr blog. If this works just take out spaces: a-fine-romance-sshg dot tumblr dot com / post / 86579510024 / voldemorts-assassin-chapter-13-its-a-lovely**


	14. Chapter 14

**Voldemort's Assassin - Chapter 14**

**Hangover**

Severus Apparated just outside the gates of Malfoy Manor. He could have appeared at the front door but he wanted the long walk to clear the foggy hangover. He also needed to sort out the memories from the evening that were making themselves known in bits and pieces.

_Hermione quite liked the ale, and Severus who tended to moderate his more indulgent drinking, had relaxed that habit, and was drinking as much as she._

_Four ales in, and the pies demolished, Hermione had begun on her fifth ale, and was relating to Severus the capture of her and her friends at the hands of the Snatchers._

_"...it was a plan, you see, but I warned Harry that when we plan a plan nothing ever goes right. 'Course, just as I predicted this was all a cock-up..." she swallowed heartily at her ale. Severus, pleasantly relaxed, and leaning back in his chair, smiled indulgently. Her recitation of those events he had never heard about had been sprinkled liberally with unschooled words, although she had forgone the more vulgar curse words as her cups deepened._

_"Snatchers. Where'd'ya think they came from?" she demanded. "I mean we never heard of 'em and… poof(!) they're everywhere like doxies on dusty curtains!"_

_"Oh they were always there but they were just common followers of the Dark Lord," replied Severus._

_"Followers of Moldy?" she asked sincerely. "Why you still call him 'the Dark Lord?"_

_Severus had sighed. "Bad habit, I suppose. Before his ignoble death the Dark Mark would flare with pain if his name was spoken aloud."_

_Hermione's mouth twisted, and she frowned, "Those Snatchers were idiots!"_

_"Yet those idiots delivered the three of you into the hands of Bellatrix LeStrange." His statement was hard edged but Hermione seemed to realise that his restrained anger was not at her. "Lucius did tell me that Bellatrix LeStrange had ordered Weasley and Potter to the dungeons."_

_"She had to save Harry for Moldy. I 'spect no one cared a fig for Ron. Me, I was hers to... 'play with'." Hermione finished her ale and banged the tankard down a bit too hard against the table. After the waitress topped their drinks, she asked, "Did Dumbledores like you?"_

_The question seemed to come from nowhere, and it unsettled him. "Why do you ask such a thing, Hermione. Did the Headmaster not entrust Potter's life to me?"_

_She nodded. "He did, but I just wonder if he even liked you. I mean Dumbledores never spoke to you at Order meetings, and other than telling Harry that he trusted you implicitly, well..." she shrugged, took another drink, and then with clear anger on her face, she spat, "And he didn't care you died! I heard his portrait during your trial 'in absentia' and he said it 'was your duty to die'! I don't think he liked you!"_

_Severus was stunned. He had never heard his own doubts voiced so vehemently, and from someone other than himself. He had never had doubt about his loyalty to Albus, but there had been many, far too many times it felt like, in which he could not help but wonder if the old man had doubted Severus' loyalty simply because he had been Sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor. Truly Severus had lived knowing that someday he would die in service to what was right in the war, but his life, his soul HAD been treated as though it were a commodity to be discarded as needed. Albus had never hesitated in being honest, brutally honest, about Severus' role in the war, and such honesty often hurt. _

_Why? Because he had loved the old man, and to this day he could not say whether or not Albus had ever had any affection for him. _

_Severus briefly closed his eyes as the unwelcome memory of learning of Lily Evans death rose like a black poison in his ale-soaked brain. He had thought his grief would actually send him to his death but his heart had only been bruised. Even so, he never thought it would beat with affection ever again._

_Yet, it had. Whatever one might say of Albus' actions towards him, Severus had cared for the older man in spite of the casual way in which Albus often treated him, and even his Slytherins. The order to kill the older wizard in place of Draco had been painful, but he had been deeply angry, too. The callous way in which Dumbledore told Severus what he must do, and then that both he, and Harry Potter were to die, had been too much._

_The Killing Curse had come easily because that anger, that pain, had lodged like a burning ember in his heart. He had cast that Curse, but as he had seen the life pass from the Headmaster's eyes as he fell had rendered what was left of Severus' heart as to nothing. He became nothing and every minute from that moment on was merely a preparation for his own death._

_A death that Lucius had stopped, and then brought him back into the land of the living._

_In the cocoon of Malfoy Manor as Lucius himself nursed him back to health, Severus had read the transcripts of his posthumous trial. The Wizengamot unanimously agreed that he had been working as a spy upon the orders of the Headmaster, and also that the killing had been a mercy one as Albus was suffering from the Dark spell upon his flesh, and the poison he had forcibly drunk in the quest to find another horcrux. No one had ever really looked into the fact that Severus, in no way, could have cast the Killing Curse without drawing upon a sufficient measure of HATE for the old wizard._

_"Severus?" Hermione cocked her head languidly but with honest concern at her dinner companion. "Are you all right?"_

_Severus rapidly stood, and pulled Hermione to her feet. "Come. We have tarried long enough, and the hour grows late." With Hermione half-jogging to keep up, Severus walked out of the restaurant, went past the Apparation spot, and continued down the almost silent sidewalk. He had just passed the tattoo parlour, but then stepped back causing Hermione to plow into his back._

_"Hey!" she protested._

_"A tattoo. A Muggle tattoo," he mumbled mostly to himself. "That will cover up the Dark Mark."_

_"And, my scar?" Hermione interjected with a large dollop of hope. She looked up at him, charmingly despite her drunken state, and he smiled. Bending slightly he gently took her chin into his hand, and brushed his lips to hers._

_"Yes, Hermione. Your scar, too, can be covered by the miracle of a Muggle artist." With that he swept them into the Gothic world of the tattoo artist._

Lucius was not waiting for him like a mother hen so he likely was unaware that Severus was arriving early in the morning hours. Pratty, always aware of who was in the manor, helped him up the hidden stairs he preferred rather than the grand staircase of marble, and tarnished gold, to his bedroom. Severus stripped, threw his clothes on the floor, literally fell into bed, and was silently grateful as the little house elf handed him a Hangover Relief potion.

Just as the Potions Master drifted into sleep he remembered, once again, the brief touch of his lips to Hermione's. He rather hoped she did not.


	15. Chapter 15

**Voldemort's Assassin - Chapter 15**

**Hermione's Dance**

Hermione had retreated to her local library. Her tiny apartment smelled disturbingly of Severus Snape. Not from an artificial cologne but his clothing held the essence of the hundreds of herbs he used in his potions beneath an earthier aroma of the fauna that had given their lives to brewing. The earthiness was not something to be described as a terrible reek; it was the aging of "dust to dust". Pleasant. Overlaying that was Hermione's favourite scent of old books, parchment, and hand-tooled leather. And finally, when he had kissed her the night before - _oh yes, she remembered that part of the evening!_ - she had drawn in the scent of simple, clean, potion-made soap.

The scent wafted through her apartment, and had permeated her bedding. Worse, it had reminded her of a secret from her sixth, and last year at Hogwarts.

_Oblivious in general Hermione had suddenly blossomed in more than just a few, awkward curves physically. She had become aware of boys, and she was flattered at the attention she was receiving from Ron, but also from boys not just in Gryffindor but the other Houses. However, all thought of boys was obliterated in that first Potions class of her sixth year when the Potions Master had swept past her workbench as he was lecturing._

"_The Revival Tincture is complicated due to the twenty-two ingredients that are brewed within but also due to the fact that it draws heavily upon the magic of the brewer. Consequently, you can expect to feel magical fatigue. Magical fatigue, as all of you should know by now, is when your magic is drawn beyond its functioning limit. To reach this limit, at your ages, is dangerous." The Potions Master had stopped in his lecture to emphasise his last statement. Hermione's breath caught as she realised he stood behind her. "Therefore, as I do not desire being chastised by Madame Pomfrey if you are too light-brained to pay attention to what is happening to your magic you are to be aware of what you are brewing but what effect it is also having upon you. Lightheadedness is a warning that you must stop. When you are assailed by this symptom you will place your potion under stasis, then leave, and take a walk outside in the fresh air."_

_Hermione, not paying attention to the fact that for once everyone else had left their desks to gather potion ingredients, was doing her best to drown in the heady scent of her teacher. Her obvious sniffing caught Professor Snape's attention, and he glared down at her._

"_A common cold will not prevent you from this practical, Miss Granger. Get started!" he barked._

_Startled, Hermione leapt from her bench, and forgot as best as she could about her teacher. That was difficult as Professor Snape continued to pace, and it seemed to Hermione that he stood behind her bench quite a lot that day. Her potion failed._

That scent. The very scent that plagued her apartment, had awakened her to the fact that Severus Snape was not simply one of her teachers, but he was a wizard. A grown, male, wizard.

Even now with her nose in her book in the present she felt the heat spill over her cheeks, down her neck, shoulders, down and down until a licentious heat lodged in her belly. She recalled the delicious dreams her young self had dreamt of her teacher.

She giggled sharply in embarrassment and slouched down further into her book. A wicked thought insinuated itself, and to her utter mortification which took her attention from her book Hermione sighed with disappointment; she wished something else had happened last night in her bed besides just sleeping!

Suddenly closing the book Hermione decided she had to face the Potions Master infused apartment... and maybe take the rest of Saturday to clean.

* * *

Hermione was not one for clutter so cleaning, especially in her small apartment, was not a terribly lengthy affair. To make the process go a little more enjoyably Hermione would use a touch of magic to sound-proof the apartment, and then she would tune her wizard wireless to her favourite music channel that played a liberal amount of both wizard, and Muggle music.

As she danced around her apartment she had straightened her small bedroom, changed the sheets, and then tackled the sitting room. With a cloth she did away with the dust on her bookshelf of books, knick-knacks, and photos. When one of her favourite songs came on Hermione stopped dusting, and went into an exuberant display of unrestrained dancing. She was so blissfully lost to the music that it was several seconds before the witch became aware of the clapping of hands at her front door.

Whirling around she glared daggers at Lucius Malfoy. "You broke my wards!"

Lucius smiled, and nodded. "Quite easily although I would expect a witch of your calibre to have given me more of a challenge, Miss Granger." Hermione watched in seething outrage as Lucius settled himself in her only chair.

"I didn't invite you here," muttered Hermione. "Would you go?"

"Oh really, Miss Granger! Such rudeness! And, you haven't even discovered why I am here." He smiled, and with a wave of his hand, a chair appeared that he gestured for her to sit in.

Hermione flopped resignedly into the fancy looking chair that made her think of a dining room chair for a Regency dining table. "Fine. What are you here for?"

"You, my dear, have made an impression upon my friend." Lucius smirked. "I saw his new tattoo, and I very much like it. Much more handsome than the remains of the Dark Mark." He stroked the fingers of his right hand over his left forearm where his own reminder of his past resided. Since seeing the raven on Severus' arm he had entertained the thought of having his own Muggle tattoo done to cover up his shame.

Hermione shrugged, but Lucius noticed that her right hand gripped her left forearm as if to hide her own new tattoo. Lucius leaned forward, touched her fingers, and then urged them away from the curious tattoo of a red rose surrounded by a twisty-green vine with dangerous looking thorns. He studied the tattoo until Hermione hid it with her hand again.

"Intriguing, Miss Granger." Lucius then studied her. "You do know what it means, don't you? The perfect rose within the thorns?"

"I suppose you know," answered Hermione sharply. She was surprised to realise that she resented that he seemed to know that her tattoo might mean something, and she did not. If it meant something worse than "Mudblood"... Hermione shook her head, and looked up at the patrician. "What does it mean, and how would you know?"

"Symbolism and runes are a particular passion of mine. I am always seeking the hidden meaning of that which is not apparent." Lucius then pointed at her tattoo, leaned forward again, and moved her hand so the colourful image was once more revealed. "The red rose is patently obvious; it is the heart of the one who wears the tattoo. In our world to publicly display, or give, such a rose means that you are ready to give your heart to another." Hermione glanced down at the rose, and tentatively traced one of the deep red petals. "Now, the thorns. That is where the true interest of your particular tattoo resides, Miss Granger." Hermione lifted her head, and listened. "The Vine of Thorns is quite an old symbol that can be seen even today upon the labels of some of the more prevalent healing potions. It is a symbol of protection; guarded protection, I ought to clarify."

Hermione studied her tattoo, seeing it in a new light. She was ready to find someone to love but he had to be perfect. He had to love her.

"I'm not going to just trust a pretty face," she said a bit pointedly at her uninvited guest.

"Indeed!" Lucius beamed with agreement, and stood. "And, on that note, you are invited to dine at Malfoy Manor this evening." Hermione's jaw dropped as he stepped the few steps to her door. "Severus complained at length about your lack of a proper kitchen so I suppose I shall leave that as an open-ended invitation." Lucius opened the door, then glanced over his shoulder. "Tonight is mandatory though, Miss Granger. Drinks at six, dinner at seven. Good-day!"

The patrician was gone, and Hermione slowly shut her jaw. She stood, took a hard look at the chair that had been left behind, and then started dancing in exuberant earnestness.

"I'm going to see Severus again!"


	16. Chapter 16

**Voldemort's Assassin - Chapter 16**

**Drinks at Malfoy Manor**

"You did what?"

"I have already said, Severus. I have invited the dear girl for dinner tonight, and extended that into an open invitation." Lucius frowned. He was warming himself by the fire. "Were you aware she had some sort of Muggle stove part in her sitting room? Barbaric!"

Severus glowered. He had seen the state of Hermione's scant "kitchen", and it _had_ bothered him. He had been spoiled with regular meals cooked by the house elves at Hogwarts but in his time as a teacher he had also learned the importance of regular meals not just for his health but for that of his Snakes as well. As soon as he had been able he had instituted rules in Slytherin House that had made regular, and healthy meals mandatory. None of his students ever showed up late to classes in the morning due to improper sleep, and nutrition.

Severus had also noticed that the young witch, despite her pleasant curves, was already showing signs of improper nutrition. Her hair was a touch too dry, as was her skin, and a lack of proper sleep was giving her dark circles under her eyes. He had entertained, for a short while, the thought of taking care of the young woman in order to restore to her a glow of health.

And, then Lucius had interfered by inviting the chit to dinner!

"I suppose you expect me to dress formally for this little soiree?" snarked the younger wizard.

"You always wear black, Severus. Have you some dress robes I am not aware of?" countered Lucius. He was entirely aware that the younger Slytherin's wardrobe consisted entirely of black and white; thoroughly boring.

"In other words, I am directed to wear my best." Severus stood, and headed for the back of the parlour to an inner staircase that led to the upper floors of the manor.

Lucius muttered to himself, "I should think that you'd always want to look your best for a young lady, Severus." The older wizard then finished the last of his fire-whiskey.

Hermione stared at the contents of her small wardrobe, and glowered at it. There were two suits, and matching robes for work, a simple black dress for Ministry functions, and the rest held Muggle jeans, and jumpers - her weekend comfort clothes.

In short, there was nothing for Hermione to wear to Malfoy Manor that was remotely suitable. She was just about to let loose a string of epithets to put her closet to shame when a house elf popped into her room. She yelped in fright, and fell to her backside onto the floor.

"What?!" Hermione stopped herself from yelling at the elf. It was then she noticed that the elf was smiling from around the edge of white box wrapped in embossed satin nearly as tall as himself.

"Pratty is bringing gift from Master Malfoy. Master Malfoy is saying that pretty witch is not having nice robes to wear for dinner." The elf shoved the box at her.

Hermione stumbled to her feet, and took a few steps back. "Oh no! That's nice, Pratty, but I can't accept such a gift from Mr. Malfoy." Just a look at the box and its satin cover told her it was expensive.

"No! No! No! Missy Granger! Master is telling Pratty that you is accepting robes '_cause it's a nice thing_, and Malfoys not known much for nice so if you not accepting Master Malfoy is being sad."

"Ohhh," Hermione sighed. "That's rather blatant Slytherin manipulation. I'd've expected something a bit more subtle." With a huff she took the box over to her couch, laid it down, and opened it.

There was a great deal of tissue paper to remove but when she did so, she felt her cheeks heating up with a blush. The dress was a simple dress of grey satin with an embroidered velvet bodice enhanced by tiny, cream coloured seed beading. The dress fell modestly to just above her ankles. It was not low cut but it had been shaped to the upper body and flared flatteringly from the waist with an eight-gored panelled skirt. The outfit was so complete that there were also pretty heels of black patent, very shiny leather, and what caused the blush - black lace panties, a brassiere, and garters.

"I... oh..." Hermione gulped as she lifted the very pretty panties (which were thankfully not a thong!) up to the light. "He didn't..."

"Is Master was making nice choice, Missy Granger?" asked the elf as he smugly rocked on his big feet.

"Pratty... I... this is... well, it's lovely, and it has to be incredibly expensive! I can't accept this!"

Pratty laughed gleefully. "Missy Granger was to be anticipated by Master Lucius. He tell Pratty to tell witch that the dress, shoes, and cloak once belonged to Mistress Narcissa. I have spell to make fit. The under things is to being new, though, and Missy Granger MUST wear them with outfit, yes?"

Hermione stared at the pretty clothing, and sighed with longing, and a deeper part of her that told her she ought to give it all back. "You have a spell to make it all fit, Pratty?"

"I do, Missy!" Pratty clapped his hands. "Is Pratty going back to Manor. You just call for Pratty when ready and Pratty make spell. Bye-bye!" Without waiting for any sort of answer from Hermione the elf was gone with a spectacular pop.

When Pratty the Malfoy Manor house elf returned to Hermione's home at her summons he handed her a silk handkerchief, and told her it was a timed portkey that would deliver her to the sky garden for drinks. Hermione tied the handkerchief around her wrist, and moments later she was portkeyed to an absolute paradise.

Pratty popped in only for enough seconds to remove the cloak revealing her lovely dress.

Neither Severus nor Lucius broke the quiet in the sky garden as Hermione arrived. Admittedly, Severus was caught by her beauty in the simple grey gown with a well-filled bodice that glittered lazily beneath the magical light. Lucius was pleased to see the awe across the young witch's face as she took in all that was the sky garden.

The sky garden was a dome-shaped structure that Lucius had built after the war. Heavy, shaped glass joined by solid ribs of iron and then surfaced with copper that shone with a nicely aged green/copper patina made the shape of the dome. Beneath it was a garden of Muggle and magical plant life that preferred the light, and the warmth year round that was not available through all four seasons in Manchester. "Sunlight" came from a single globe of light created by magic.

The garden was a host of trees, flowers, bushes, and vines that came together to draw the spectator towards the centre of the garden. At its centre was a sitting area with a green and silver satin-striped lounger, two extremely comfortable chairs wrapped in leather, and a sideboard that held everything from brandy, to fire-whiskey, to wine, to hand-pressed fruit juices.

Lucius Malfoy loved his library but there were times when the sky garden, or tending his peacocks drew him away from the nightmares of the past. Severus had also found the sky garden to be a perfect place of retreat, and it was now an old favourite.

Hermione, entranced by lush plant life she only saw during Spring had forgotten about her dining companions. She had knelt down by a small waterfall that fell into a little pond bordered by thick moss, and pebbles.

Severus had neglected his drink that was sitting on a delicate teak-wood table between himself and Lucius; he was entranced by the vision of loveliness that had just appeared in the sky garden. The witch was not immodestly dressed but the gown was a perfect sheath that drifted gently over her delectable curves. As she knelt the skirt of the dress pooled around her in a ripple of liquid satin.

"Severus," Lucius spoke softly, "be a good host, and invite the lovely nymph to join us for drinks."

The younger wizard did rise but not without a quick sneer towards his benefactor. Lucius acted too much like the domineering father some days. As Severus stepped towards Hermione he did not notice that Lucius cleverly enlarged Severus' chair to the size of a loveseat. He then vanished the chaise lounge to make certain that the witch would have no choice but to sit in the cosy chair with Severus.

"Hermione," said Severus as he extended a hand to the young woman, "would you care to join myself and Lucius for before dinner drinks?"

Hermione took the hand offered, and Severus helped her to her feet. "What a wonderful place this is!" she beamed.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. The sky garden has been my oasis since after the war."

Severus led Hermione over to the expanded chair where she sat. He then went over to the sideboard where a variety of drinks waited. "Do you have a preference, Hermione?" he asked as he showed the drinks with a graceful movement of his hand and arm.

"Oh! Wine, please, Severus." She watched as he poured the dark red liquid into a crystal wine glass then brought it over to her. Hermione sipped at the wine, and was surprised at the taste of Spring fruit that slipped past her lips, and onto her tongue. "This is wonderful!"

With not even a glance at his Slytherin matchmaking friend Severus seated himself beside Hermione, picked up his brandy, touched the lip of his glass to hers, and with a nod he took his own sip.

"The wine is from Ireland, Miss Granger," Lucius supplied. "When I purchased it I was told that the High Elf King was the only one allowed to drink it."

Hermione took another sip, and felt momentarily transported to the wilds of Ireland. She then looked around at the garden again. "Did you work on the garden, Mr. Malfoy, or did your house elves do the work?"

"Your condemnation for the "slavery" of my house elves is transparent, Miss Granger," chided Lucius gently. "You may be assured that what you see here has never been touched by my house elf… Pratty. I quite enjoy gardening, and Severus has recently added his own touch."

"You only have the one elf?" asked Hermione of both men.

Severus replied, "The Ministry confiscated all 270 house elves, and... sold them to aid in recovery efforts after the war," smirked Severus as he sipped again at his brandy.

"Sold them?!" Hermione was appalled. She had learned a thing or two about house elf culture, but she had never heard of house elves being sold. "That's barbaric!"

"And how is that?" asked Lucius with a hard edge to his voice. "They are all well ensconced in homes where they cater to the whims of witches and wizards, as they so desired. Would you rather they had simply been thrown out onto the streets to rot?"

"I...!" Hermione clamped her mouth shut. She could not stomach the thought that elves had been sold like mere chattel, but she had not thought what would have happened to them were they not in homes. "They would have been free," she said softly.

Severus spoke gently, "The house elves were already free, Hermione. A house elf is not happy unless it is serving to the needs of a witch or wizard. That has long been the way they _choose to live_."

"I heard of your efforts at Hogwarts to "free" the house elves there, Miss Granger. Your... Muggle-born efforts only added fuel to fire the argument that the Muggle-born and half-bloods have no business being a part of our world." He then smiled. "As it is we owe our lives to a half-blood." He then lifted his fire-whiskey, and nodded towards Hogwarts. "And, I should mention, to the Hogwarts house elves who refused to leave either the castle, or children in their charge."

"Harry was half-blood," smiled Hermione as she thought of her best friend.

Lucius snorted. "Not that pewling Gryffindor! I meant the Half-Blood Prince." With a nod he glanced to Severus who nodded once to his friend.

Hermione looked between the two men, and then her puzzled gaze settled upon Severus. "You? The Advanced Potions book! You're the Half-Blood Prince?"

Severus dropped his head slightly so that his gaze was obscured by his hair falling across it. "An egoism of my youth, Hermione." He brushed away the hair, and lifted his head. "But, yes. I am the Half-Blood Prince. The protector of the Boy-Who-Lived, and the Boy-Who-Served-to-Annoy-Me for six years as a mediocre student at Hogwarts."

"Harry annoyed you?" scoffed Hermione. "You never gave him a chance! You _hated_ him from the beginning..."

"As I did you, and Weasley, and Longbottom!" snapped Severus interrupting.

"You hate Gryffindors," muttered Hermione as she stared sullenly at her wine.

"You were only in my Slytherin/Gryffindor class, _Miss Granger_," he enunciated her formal name sharply. "I hated the Ravenclaws, and the Hufflepuffs almost as much as the arrogant Gryffindors." Suddenly not desiring to be near the young witch Severus rose to his feet, and began to pace. "And can you tell me that the Headmaster ever gave me reason NOT to resent anyone from that House?" Severus in particular was reminded of the Welcoming Feast of 1991 when Harry Potter arrived at Hogwarts, and his antics, not to mention his bumbling destruction of the resurrected Voldemort, had effectively stolen the House Cup from Slytherin.

"I..." Hermione practically bit her tongue as she recalled how often she heard others in Gryffindor speak ill of their Potions teacher. How many times the Headmaster gave away points just as Professor Snape had removed them. Worst of all had been the very public slight of points, and applause that had humiliated the Head of Slytherin, his Snakes, and wrongly took the House Cup from Slytherin back in her first year.

Hermione never liked to hear anyone speak against Harry, but she had often overlooked, or even forgiven the insults laughed about by both Harry, and Ron. She had heard the Headmaster claim his trust of the dour man in front of Harry, and others of the Order of the Phoenix at Grimmauld Place. It had puzzled her then but she implicitly trusted the Headmaster and was certain that if he trusted Severus Snape it had to be for a reason. Hindsight had shown her that the Potions Master had not only risked his life, often, in preserving Harry's life but hers, and Ron's, and other students' lives.

"I... I'm sorry, Severus. I accused you as though I were still a child, and I know better... now. We were not kind to you. And, I know both Harry and Ron were terrible students as far as ALL of their classes were concerned." Hermione chuckled, and shook her head. "I shouldn't forget how much of their homework was my blood, sweat, and tears!"

Severus sighed, and drew in his irritation. Hermione was no longer one of the Three Idiots he had charged himself to keep safe despite themselves. She was a grown woman, and she had matured. "Those two only managed their NEWTs due to your work, and persistence..." he seated himself carefully beside her, "...Hermione.

"I can honestly say I grew up," she murmured as the hint of a blush touched her cheeks.

"And you did so in such a lovely way, Miss Granger!" drawled Lucius. He did not like the tension in his sanctuary.

Conversation drifted into the more neutral territory of things like the weather, Lucius' peacocks, and quietly Severus and Hermione traded tentative looks now and again towards each other.


	17. Chapter 17

**Voldemort's Assassin - Chapter 17**

**The Malfoy Library**

Dinner had gone well, and the three retired to the beautiful Malfoy Library for after dinner drinks. It was the first time Hermione was able to see some of the damage left by the Death Eaters who had held no respect for books. An entire wall had been vanished in some mischief, and Lucius had only recently gotten round to repairing it. He explained that the Death Eaters, and Voldemort himself, had taken out boredom, and anger upon paintings, collectibles, walls, floors, furniture. The wall was not being repaired magically as was the norm but the way it had been done back when Malfoy Manor was first built - stone by stone and brick by brick.

"Not even my beloved peacocks were spared since some became meals for gatherings," Lucius related sourly. Hermione was horrified by the revelation. "When the Ministry Aurors came through to remove all manner of Dark Artifacts, and to inspect the dungeons, they too, left their marks."

"There was a great deal of anger even though Voldemort was killed," Hermione added sympathetically.

Lucius nodded, but Severus' lips were pursed thinly. "The vandalism was minimal but it was no less bitter." Lucius finished his fire-whiskey, and then with a nod, and a farewell he left the library to retire for the evening.

There was silence, then, but Severus dealt with it by doing away with the dregs of their drinks and preparing a tea that had been placed under a Stasis Spell to keep it hot. He served her, and to her surprise and pleasure the wizard resumed his place beside her on the loveseat instead of taking the one vacant chair that had been occupied by Lucius.

For several long, and quiet minutes they both enjoyed their tea. Hermione noted that it was an herbal blend of chamomile, lavender, and other "sleepy" herbs she could not recognise. She then turned slightly to face Severus after placing her cup in its saucer on the table in front of them.

"Severus," she addressed him. He noted her hands clasping tightly, then relaxing. "If you don't wish to tell me, that's all right, but how did you survive in the Shrieking Shack. We thought you were dead, and Harry and Minerva went back hours later for your body but you weren't there. We assumed the worst."

The wizard took a deep breath. He did not want to say anything. If truth be told, he was still angry at all three children that had left him to die. It had been in the midst of battle, and he had been prepared to die... but still it rankled. He gave her a stony look, but then her hand, so small, and fine, and tentative touched his own.

"Please, Severus. What happened?"

"I did not die in front of you, Hermione," he began stiffly. He then carefully placed his own hand over hers. She did not yank her hand away. Instead, she only shifted closer, and Severus was all too aware of the warmth of her hip against his. "I passed out from... well, blood loss, of course. When I did come to it was Lucius that had stopped my bleeding, and I was able to direct him, silently, to an antidote for the venom in my pocket."

"Lucius saved you?" Hermione gasped.

Severus sneered, but lightly. He did not remove his hand from hers. "Believe it or not, Hermione, Lucius has been my friend, a true friend, for a very long time." He lifted the witch's hand into his and curled his long fingers around her smaller ones. He studied their simple joining, and was very aware of the warmth of her hand, and the gently insidious spark of electricity that was travelling lazily down his spine.

Hermione tightened her grip briefly and smiled up at him shyly. "So, Lucius healed you. But," she frowned, "you had the antidote? Were you expecting an attack by Nagini?"

"It was..." Severus glanced down as his index finger gently stroked the back of her hand. He sighed heavily, "...inevitable."

Hermione was shocked by his resigned statement but she was also becoming distracted as Severus stroked her hand. The warmth hit her spine, and travelled its length down to her very core. She struggled to ignore the pleasant sensation as the vision of that horrible snake Nagini slithered across her mind.

"That's... horrid..." Hermione whispered.

Severus let go of her hand, and clasped his together. "It was meant from the beginning, Hermione. Albus required my life to do with as he needed..."

Hermione abruptly interrupted. She grabbed his hands and tugged them towards her abdomen. "And, taught you that you were only worth enough to keep Harry alive! And, that's not true! There is nothing we could have done without you, Severus. The fact we were so _ignorant_ does not lessen you as a person. You're worthy, and if you don't know that... I..." she dropped his hands, clutched hers into fists, and frowned in frustration.

Putting a hand over her distressed fists, Severus found there was a warmth in his belly as he was oddly touched by the young woman's fervent declaration. "Hermione, stop," he chastised softly. "All of that is in the past. What matters is that I defied the odds, and I live."

Hermione let out a huff of breath, then smiled up at Severus. "You did live, didn't you? I'm so glad that you did!" she suddenly gushed. Her cheeks flamed as she realised what she had voiced. Severus relaxed, and let out a laugh that enveloped her senses. It was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard.


	18. Chapter 18

**Voldemort's Assassin - Chapter 18**

**The Next Morning**

Hermione awoke muzzily to the rude sound of her Muggle alarm clock as it roused her from the comfortably warm sleep she had fallen into after she had left Malfoy Manor past midnight.

The rest of the evening had belonged to her and Severus even after their initial conversation regarding him living, and then disappearing instead of dying had passed. He had enlightened her about his owl-potions business which consisted of healing potions, an unexpected line of shampoos, conditioners, soaps, and even a signature perfume - Tenebrae Pannum (the Cloth of Night). The latter he sold in Paris, and Hermione was delighted to learn that the potions on the market under HBP Apothecary were his. She informed him, unnecessarily so, that those potions were highly successful, and very much sought after. Enviously she muttered that there had been many times she wanted to buy the HBP Apothecary potions, but she could only afford the lesser effective, cheaper ones.

Hermione then told Severus about her nearly pointless job at the Ministry filing Apparation Licences. It was then that she told him how well she had been treated after breaking things off with Ron...

_Hermione sighed, and took the small aperitif of sweet almond the wizard handed her. "The red-headed git had cheated on you, Hermione," said Severus. "How was that your fault?"_

_Hermione shrugged. "It shouldn't be but that vile Rita Skeeter had to get her two cents in and she painted me as a shallow, and scarlet woman where Ron had had no choice but to cheat on me." She slouched back against the loveseat. "In one day I was moved from a very cushy job in the Magical Historical Research with the hope of being accepted as an Unspeakable, to the tiny Apparation Licence department. It's been three years, no savings, I miss my parents, and I miss Crookshanks. I also don't have a kitchen."_

_Mentioning Crookshanks and her parents had brought up their last discussion of the evening in which Hermione told Severus about her "brilliant" plan to hide her parents from Voldemort since Albus couldn't - as he claimed - help. She had wiped her parents memories of her, and relocated them to Australia. She had never expected them to move, and to leave no way for her to find them._

_As for Crookshanks, her part-kneazle, the witch had last seen him at Hogwarts right before the Final Battle began. She had not seen him since._

_"How did you ever wipe your parents memories, Hermione? Memory Spells have never been covered at Hogwarts. That is an advanced level of skill for a Master Auror." He frowned disapprovingly._

_Hermione looked up at the wizard who had once been her teacher, and swallowed nervously at the look on his face. She had seen that look of disapproval too many times in Potions class. "I... uhm... read a book?"_

_The frown deepened into a scowl, and Hermione pushed herself in the corner of the loveseat. "You. Read... a book." Severus lowered his head, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Not changing his pose, he asked, "I suppose it would be absolutely useless to tell you about the incredible risk you were taking with your parents brains?"_

_Hermione grimaced darkly. "I knew the risk then but I didn't have a choice. Harry woke from a nightmare one night, and he was frantic about us doing something to save my parents. I had read about Memory Spells, and I knew that I could botch things terribly, but it was either that, or let the Death Eaters kill them." She poked his breastbone sharply with her index finger, and he winced. "Did you know Voldemort had targeted my parents?"_

_Severus had caught her hand and pressed it against his chest so she could not poke him again. "I was not aware that they had been confirmed as targets but I had suspected they were vulnerable after Arthur Weasley was attacked by Nagini in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry for Magic."_

_Hermione tried to tug her hand away but Severus kept hold of it. She then watched as he became fascinated by her hand. His fingers traced hers, and Hermione shuddered. Not entirely sure what was going on she tugged her hand again, and he reluctantly let it go. She cradled her hand, blushed, and then looked up at him._

_"I think I should go..."_

Hermione stretched and smiled at the slice of sunlight that slipped through her store-bought curtains. Severus had escorted her to the door, handed her a portkey that Lucius had made, and then sent her off with a kiss that had lingered tantalizingly on her cheek.

The alarm buzzed a second time, and Hermione gave it a good, hard glare as she slammed the noise off. She threw off the blankets, shuddered as her bare feet hit the cold floor, and dashed into the tiny room that held her loo, shower, and sink. Minutes later she was dressed, warming herself with a cup of coffee, and she was out the door, and to work.

* * *

Hermione's day at the Ministry was as exciting as it had been for the last three years. She dutifully filed renewed licences, filed finished written Apparation tests, the results of the final practical, and new licences, and fire-called those few witches and wizards that had forgotten to renew their licence. Before a licence was handed over Hermione stamped those licences with a patented tracking spell that allowed the Ministry to track anyone who legally Apparated.

Therefore when it came time for lunch she fairly flew from her small office, and upwards and out to the freedom of working London as fast as possible. Once outside, she settled upon the stone ledge of a fountain, took out her pennies and sickles (which were all jumbled together) and smiled when she saw she had enough for a second coffee of the day, and a doughnut.

With her lunch in hand, Hermione settled away from a growing breeze against the trunk of a large tree. Magic was not allowed in this very Muggle public area just where the Ministry For Magic was hidden below the ground, so Hermione ate without the aid of a chair, and her cloak wrapped around her cold shins.

She was happy enough until a cloud passed that removed the last of the Autumn sunshine.

"Please tell me that is not your lunch, Hermione," spoke the cloud.

Hermione lifted her head to look up upon the tall frame of someone whose face she did not recognise, but with a voice she did. "Polyjuice Potion, Severus?"

He nodded. "It allows me movement I would not otherwise have." Without invitation the tall wizard settled himself beside the witch. "No disguise for my voice, though."

"Why the disguise at all?" she eyed the large, picnic basket he'd had hidden away tiny, but enlarged it with just a wave of his hand.

"Surely you do not think I have spent three years within the walls of Malfoy Manor, do you, Hermione?" he asked as he withdrew a sandwich wrapped in butcher paper that he gave her.

"Well, I... I never thought of it, really. I only just learned you were alive a few days ago." She unwrapped the sandwich. "Oh! Chicken and devilled egg!" Her stomach growled so loudly that Severus chuckled deeply.

He then produced a bottle that held a tempting red liquid in it. Severus poured the liquid into a plain glass, and handed it to Hermione who sipped experimentally at it.

"Not wine... mmmm!" she assessed.

"Not during the day. This is Pratty's handmade pomegranate juice. Perfect for lunch." Hermione indulged in her sandwich and juice and was momentarily joined by Severus. After several minutes of blissful eating, Severus finished his sandwich, and leaned back against the tree. One knee was bent, the other leg was stretched out.

"You know, your Apparation Licence is expired," Hermione was the first to breach the silence.

"Hermione, use your brain. What trouble would having a licence cause me?" His eyes remained closed as he soaked in the waning sunshine. He also silently cast a Warming Charm around them, and smirked when he felt the witch's eyes upon him.

"I suppose a licence would prove you're alive," she sighed. "But, do you Apparate at all?"

"I had an Apparation Licence for show whilst working at Hogwarts. Unfortunately the Dark Mark tended to negate all tracking spells. Something that quite vexed Albus who desperately wanted to track me in order to discover where the Dark... excuse me... Voldemort was." Severus leaned forward, opened his eyes, and gazed curiously upon Hermione. "I have been Apparating as I needed since my recovery. I know that it is illegal. Will you... report me, Hermione?"

Hermione also leaned forward, and studied him as seriously as she could but when he remained unflinching, his gaze locked with hers, she smiled, shook her head, and said, "No. No, I won't report you, Severus. I'm a bit envious that you can travel anywhere you want with no one the wiser."

"And, I have Polyjuice Potion," he added smugly.

"You're truly a free man, then, aren't you?" asked Hermione as she tipped her head to the side.

"Do you see now why I did not run right out and declare to the wizarding world that I had lived?" He crossed his ankles so he was sitting Indian-style, and re-cast the diminishing Warming Charm. "I have no desire for fame, Hermione. If I remain dead to the wizarding world I have nothing to complain of."

"You would allow Minerva, Filius, and your other colleagues to mourn you?" Hermione mirrored his sitting pose, and draped her robes so the hem drifted over her knees.

Severus bowed his head to hide his expression as he remained quiet. He hated how he left his colleagues, those who taught side-by-side with him and counted him as friend. "Albus was... not just an employer, Hermione. He was the 'father' to all of us at Hogwarts, and despite his flaws, and prejudices, he was loved, and cherished. I sinned greatly in Minerva, and Filius' eyes. I murdered their father. If they knew I was alive it would not only awaken old pain, but I suspect they would each find a way to exact retribution for my crime."

"But that isn't fair, Severus," Hermione persisted. "They testified on your behalf. They heard Albus' portrait speak, saw his memories, and even Harry spoke highly of you. I think they would love to know you're alive!"

"No, Hermione," he rebutted staunchly. "Everything changed when I killed Albus..." she began to ready a protest but he held up his hand to stop her, "I know the Wizengamot eventually agreed that what I did I had been ordered to do by Albus, but that does not change the fact I _DID_ kill the man. Whatever my motives, whatever Albus ordered, I killed him, and I will forever be seen as his murderer."

Hermione hated it. Sometimes the facts just refused to fit the world as she wanted to see it. Rita Skeeter slandered Severus Snape almost daily in the paper even three years later. No one ever tried to set her straight. Well, Hermione had tried, and had only made her own situation worse. And, Ron, well he had severed any friendship they could have salvaged by simply ignoring her. When Ron's relationship had gone bad, and he was left with the product of their temporary infatuation - a daughter; Hermione learned it all through the Daily Prophet. Harry gave her more accurate information but Ron had never come to tell her.

Hermione leaned more on her friendship with Harry, and enjoyed the on again-off again relationship he had with Ginny.

Hermione had to admit that Severus would be a foolish man to give up the anonymity he had from his death. She had been foolish to think he was wrong for "hiding away".

"Severus, are you happy?" Hermione suddenly asked.

The older wizard gave her a puzzled, startled look. It was not a question he expected, nor one he had ever addressed for himself. Taking a deep breath, and a thought, he then replied, "I cannot say that I have ever analysed my situation in regards to my... happiness."

Hermione glowered at him. "Your life is not a situation. Now, tell me. Is your life happy? Is it, or has it become satisfactory?"

Severus smirked at the persistent woman. He stretched his back, and gave a more serious thought back upon his life after that near fatal attack from Nagini, Voldemort's familiar.

Severus had gone resignedly, and willingly, to his death but he had still prepared for the possibility that he just might survive. The snake had gone for his throat, though, and the immediate blood loss had him nearly delirious.

He recalled Potter and his cronies arriving just as the Dark Lord left him to die. The pain was enough that he wanted to welcome oblivion, and Death, but his duty to Albus Dumbledore prevailed, and he gave to Potter the crucial memories the boy needed to finish the war.

As his guarded memories slid like pearly milk from his eyes he was assailed by those bittersweet memories of childhood. The last thing he wanted to see with his living sight was the green of Lily's eyes; her forgiveness. When the boy obeyed his order, Severus _did_ see the green of Lily's eyes, but they were that of the young girl who had severed their friendship over his utterance of one, horrible word; _Mudblood_.

Severus had passed out then; bereft of the last thread of love he had ever held for Lily. She would never forgive him, never return to him. He would pass this mortal coil, pass into the Veil, and meet the endless Darkness of Death alone.

"I was not pleased, at first, to realise that I had lived," Severus slowly spoke as he drifted away from the memories of the past, and did his best to answer Hermione's question. "I was recovering, but I also did not know what I was to do after I had recovered. There was no Dark Lord to spy upon, the Aurors were aggressively rounding up Death Eaters, and followers, to fill the cells at Azkaban. I certainly could not go back to Hogwarts. I expected to wander the halls of Malfoy Manor until I managed to brew a potion that would end my existence."

"I'm so glad you didn't do that, Severus," Hermione touched his right hand. "What kept you from doing so?"

"Pratty, that little devil of a house elf did. He had orders from Lucius to keep me from '_doing anything foolhardy_'." Severus chuckled softly. "It was Pratty that annoyed me to distraction until the only thing I thought I could do to get away from him was to open my lab at the manor, and begin brewing."

"And you found peace?"

The Potions Master shook his head. "I was too woefully out of practice at brewing. I ruined several potions, and lost my temper. I was angry at myself for ruining what I brewed, and wasting ingredients. Pratty solved that by forcing me to accompany him on excursions to various places for fresh ingredients. Just getting out of that manor was refreshing, and I looked forward to those days." Severus leaned back against the tree, and closed his eyes. "I brewed more, and the potions I erred on became less. I then sent Pratty to my private lab at Hogwarts to fetch my books, and my own private potions. I began to work in earnest. By the time Lucius was released from having served his seven months in Azkaban I was ready to approach him with the idea of my owl-order business. With him as my silent partner it allowed me the unprecedented time to anticipate a future. For Lucius it gave him the needed time to come to terms with his divorce from Narcissa, and Draco moving out of the manor."

Severus then opened his eyes. He smiled a smile that was small but that spoke volumes to Hermione. "Yes, Hermione. I believe that I am content with my life."


	19. Chapter 19

**Voldemort's Assassin - Chapter 19**

**Madigan Berger: Voldemort's Assassin**

"A picnic!" Lucius was fuming as he paced back and forth in his favourite parlour, his hands clasped as one fist behind his back. "You had a picnic above the Ministry with... _HIM_ out there?"

Severus was watching the older man, a scowl marring his features. "I was under Polyjuice Potion."

Lucius whirled to face Severus. He was angry, but every Slytherin knew, one could be angry, but should never get close enough for the snake to strike. He remained conspicuously out of Severus' range of being able to hit him. He had seen the younger man take down more seasoned wizards than himself just by his fists alone. Severus, from his Muggle background, was a very accomplished street fighter.

Severus smirked at Lucius. The older wizard oft times forgot that the younger was exceedingly proficient in wandless and silent casting of spells.

Lucius continued his admonishment, "If you like the girl, fine, Severus. I even extended to her an open invitation for dinner. However, you risked yourself when you sought her out at the Ministry."

Severus nodded sagely. "Ahhh, so you believe Mad Berger would lurk the hallowed halls of the very institution that seeks his soul to be kissed away?"

Lucius' lips thinned, and he threw himself into his chair. He then Summoned his drink which he had placed on the fireplace mantle the moment he began yelling. "You are being deliberately devilish, Severus. Of course the man would be a fool to linger anywhere near the Ministry, but his skills are above, and beyond ours. The Ministry did not even know of Madigan Berger until Snatcher Skellgood opened his bloody mouth."

"How did a Snatcher know about the Dark Lord's Assassin?" asked Severus, still seemingly unconcerned with Lucius' upset.

"Skellgood claimed he had assisted in a few of Berger's assignments. Considering that he gave the Wizengamot rather credible evidence, it appears he may have done what he claimed," replied Lucius.

"Unfortunately, that knowledge only seemed to bury Skellgood," mused Severus. He chuckled darkly. Only a few days ago he had read the short obituary of Armus Tea Skellgood who had succumbed to a long illness brought on by "persistent bad lungs". There were no more Dementors at Azkaban but that did not mean that the wizard prison was now a resort for its incarcerated.

"The thing is, Severus, Madigan Berger is loose, and this means you are in danger until he is caught," insisted Lucius.

"Berger does not even know I am alive, Lucius," sighed Severus as he felt he had to state the obvious.

"No," Lucius drawled slowly, as if savouring a bite from a favourite dessert. "But I am certain he knows that Miss Granger is."

Severus' spine straightened just as his heart dropped to his toes.

* * *

Hermione's day at work, after her lovely picnic with Severus, had placed her upon a cloud. She went about her work stamping licences, taking photographs for new licences, and filing the paperwork. When she Apparated to her little apartment, with the sandwich Severus claimed he had Pratty make for her dinner, she was still on that cloud.

Dinner was quickly finished, and Hermione decided to treat herself to a bath. A treat since she always had to pay for the extra bit of water used. Her landlady was someone who not only watched her sickles, but Hermione's, too.

One extravagance that Hermione had taken from her parents house before it was sold was the claw foot, porcelain bathtub her mother had gotten from Paris, France. The claws were all gilded with gold, and the fixtures were solid gold. Hermione had not been allowed to use the beautiful bathtub until she was ten years old. Ever since then she used it as her mother taught her; in a bathroom with subdued lighting, lots of candles, and her favourite bath oil - Eucalyptus.

The oil - Essence of Eucalyptus - was a relaxing aroma that permeated the steam that gathered languidly as she filled the tub with water. The oil, also a clever moisturising bath liquid, added great froths of bubbles to the water.

At last, stripped of the days clothing, Hermione slipped into the hot water, and closed her eyes as she settled. Her mind skirted through a luxurious fantasy of the Roman baths until her fantasy was inexplicably interrupted by the very same shadow that had insinuated itself upon her lunchtime. Only this time Severus was without his Polyjuice Potion disguise, and in his own face, and body.

"You're not supposed to be here," Hermione said with relaxed liquidity to the image of Severus.

Dream Severus looked about at the marble columns, and the arches of the Roman baths, ignoring the many women who were quite nude, and their barely clothed attendants.

"I do not believe that the Roman baths were anything at all like this, Miss Granger," Severus chided gently.

Hermione frowned. "It's my dream. They can look any way I want them to. Now, whatever are you doing in my dream... Severus?"

A lovely, cream coloured chaise lounge made a quiet appearance, and Severus seated himself. "I am not certain. I recall going to bed, closing my eyes, and then I was here."

Hermione giggled. "You're not the real Severus! Silly man!" She shifted in her bath, and the bubbles parted for just a tantalising moment, that caused Severus' cheeks to become an embarrassed dusky rose.

"On the contrary Miss... " she shook her finger at him, and scowled in warning. He nodded, "Hermione. I do believe you are the one in my dream. However, I do not understand how you managed such... creative control of it."

"That's because it's MY dream. Not yours." Hermione leaned towards the side of the tub, put up her arms, and rested her chin on her crossed arms as she regarded the Potions Master. "Thank you for the picnic today. It was lovely."

"I simply brought you something to eat." He smirked slyly. "And, after I saw that doughnut it is a good thing that I did."

Hermione leaned forward, and stretched out a bare arm that glistened with scented bubbles that trailed leisurely off her skin. She was holding a soft, natural sponge that dripped with heavily soap laden water. "Would you wash my back, Severus?"

"Delighted to, Hermione," chuckled Severus. He rose from the chaise lounge, took the offered sponge, and kneeled behind her to begin drawing the sponge over her back. Hermione sighed happily.

"I wish you were real," Hermione said with melancholy after a few minutes of sensuous silence between the two. She was very mindful of Severus having moved the sponge from her back to her shoulder.

"I am real," he insisted.

"Of course you're not. Didn't I tell you this was my dream?" Hermione turned suddenly, and the sponge was just below her chin. Severus had stopped the sponging, and was trying desperately not to stare at the revelation of Hermione's usually hidden curves.

Severus dropped the sponge, and leaned back. "Your dream, yes. I will concede on that point, but I do assure you, I am quite real."

Hermione moved closer to the side of the tub where he had moved, and cleverly moved some of the suds to provide her with a bit more modesty. Her countenance was more serious as she studiously regarded him. "It is not possible for two people to share a dream, Severus. Or, is it?"

Severus retreated away from the tub, and seated himself back upon the chaise lounge. "It is a rarity, but I have heard that it is possible for a ... bonded ... couple to share dreams."

"We're not bonded," Hermione interjected quickly.

Severus frowned. His slim index finger tapped his chin thoughtfully. "We certainly are not. I wonder how this is possible." Hermione watched him for a moment. "May I ask what time it was when you..." he glanced down at the ornate tub.

"I'd just finished the sandwich you brought me for dinner. So, it was about... well, I did get home late... after midnight?" She nodded. "Yes, after midnight. Just almost 12:30 as I glanced at my clock before going into my bathroom. "What time did you go to sleep?"

"I prepared for bed at my usual time which is 2am." He nodded, as if to himself, then pointed his index finger at the witch. "That explains why you have control over the dream; you began it."

"And, I drew you in. But, how?" she asked him with the hope he had the answer.

"I can only surmise..." he began, then raised his eyebrow dubiously at her. "Were you thinking of me when you fell asleep, Miss Granger?"

Hermione's hands slapped bubbles, and water in sudden triumph. "Aha! I'm not asleep!" she grinned. "I'm just day dreaming!"

For several long minutes Severus studied her. As he did so, Hermione's grin began to falter. He then leaned right into her face. He drawled but his voice had a tense command to it, "Wake up, Miss Granger. Wake. Up. NOW!"


	20. Chapter 20

**Voldemort's Assassin - Chapter 20**

_**Warning: Character Death**_

_Severus Snape's voice commanded, "Wake. Up. NOW!"_

* * *

Hermione jerked awake, and spluttered as water seeped from her nose. The bubbles were gone, and the warm water had cooled. She glared down to her wrinkled toes beneath the water's surface. She had actually fallen asleep in the bathtub, and nearly slipped under the water, and drowned!

Dragging herself out of the water, she grabbed a thick towel, and quickly wrapped it around herself as she began to shiver. She trotted the short distance to her bed, and then without losing the towel she dove under the covers.

Thank goodness Severus woke me up, Hermione thought to herself as she closed her eyes, and resumed sleeping.

Sunlight filtered through Hermione's drapes to wake her. She blinked against the intrusion, and then suddenly shifted so she was sitting up.

"Severus woke me up!" Hermione croaked to her bedroom. She frowned, then shook her head. "That was just a dream... a really... good... dream," she yawned, and stretched. "A very remarkably realistic dream."

Her dream, and its naturalistic nature was something to ponder but the witch just did not have time. She dressed, and left her apartment so she could get to the coffee shop for her breakfast.

**Malfoy Manor**

Lucius knocked upon the door to Severus' potions lab. After waking from an odd dream the night before he had gone downstairs and brewed potions for the rest of the night. So caught up in his current work, an experiment he had been working on having to do with Wolfsbane, that he did not hear the urgent knocking.

When it became an insistent pounding Severus glared at the door, cast the Vanishing Charm, and with a strong glower he shouted, "This had better be bloody worth 43 galleons in wasted ingredients, Lucius!"

Lucius strode through the door. "I'll replace the ingredients, Severus. You need to read this." Lucius tossed his morning Daily Prophet into the younger wizard's lap.

Severus gave the aristocrat his best look of annoyance as he snatched the paper up. "What am I...?" Glancing down at the front page his eyes widened in shock since the headline was very large. "Oh... blessed Merlin!" Severus whispered. He then looked up into his friend's face. "Hermione…!" he gasped.

"This is going to devastate her if she has not already read the headline?" Severus rose up with alacrity, and pushed past Lucius. "Where are you going?"

"The Ministry. Hermione will be there." Grabbing his outer cloak, he vanished from the lab.

"Severus!" roared Lucius after a blink. "Your Polyjuice...!"

Hermione walked.

Head bent, shoulders drooping, she walked.

Hermione could not say where she walked only that she did. And, she kept going. She did not care that her breakfast of coffee, and a pastry was interrupted by the single worst bit of news she would ever read in her lifetime. All that she could think of was...

**The Ministry for Magic, Foyer**

A high-strung witch, the current receptionist for the venerable, old, magical institute, insisted to a group of Aurors, "Sev... er… us Snape! Did I stutter?!"

"Ma'am," sighed the youngest Auror. "Snape's dead. Couldna' been him..."

The high-strung witch glared at the Auror, "Listen you, git. That was Severus Snape that actually Apparated in here demanding..."

"Well!" crowed the eldest Auror. "Nobody can Apparate into the Ministry so that couldn't have been Snape, Mrs. Harper."

Alma Harper fumed, pushed her spectacles up her long, thin nose, and retreated to the island of her desk. The Aurors all had a chuckle at her expense, and shuffled away talking about grimmer things. Alma just watched them. She no longer cared if anyone believed her but she had seen Severus Snape, he had Apparated into the Foyer, and he had demanded to know where Hermione Granger was. At least when Alma told him the witch had not shown up for work he had instantly vanished. She shrugged, and went back to reading her trashy romance. This was going to be a long day after what had happened, and she really did not care if some dead wizard had come back to life and appeared right in front of her.

**The Daily Prophet - Special Morning Edition - October 12, 2001**

_The Boy-Who-Lived-Twice Found Dead!_

_by Emory Holst, crime reporter_

_It is a sad day, a terribly sad day for Britain's wizarding world. Our hero of the He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named's War was found early this morning by another hero of That War, his friend Ronald Weasley, in Grimmauld Place Park, dead. "Murdered," confirmed the Aurory officially._

_The particulars of this case seem straightforward enough: Harry Potter was coming home after a late shift at the Aurory Training Headquarters when some assailant caught him, beat him severely with a Battering Hex, and then ended his life with the Unforgivable Killing Curse._

... Hermione read the headline again. Her stomach clenched at the gruesome, moving photo someone had taken at the scene of the crime just as Harry's body was being taken away, and then the first two paragraphs of the long article which went into grotesque detail about how Harry was found, about the Battering Hex, the last time the Killing Curse was known to be used publicly (the murder of Albus Dumbledore by Severus Snape) and then a further history of Harry's heroic deeds since the end of the Voldemort War.

"Ohhhhh, Harry," she moaned softly, and continued her aimless walk down a nearly quiet park boulevard in London.

Hermione's hand crumpled the cursed paper so she was unaware of the warmth that settled upon her shoulders. It was not until two strong arms pulled her against the deep thumping heart within the chest of the Potions Master that she dropped the paper, curled her fists into the jacket of his long coat, and began to cry.

Before she realised it she was seated in the Slytherin's lap as he helped her to steady a steaming mug of hot chocolate in her hands. She barely registered that the skin of her hands stung just a little bit from the heat of the beverage but she was loathe to remove either the hot chocolate, or her hands, or those encircling hers. When she finally looked up after the large, comforting hands removed themselves she felt Severus dabbing at tears on her cheek, and saw that Lucius was in a muffled conversation with another witch or wizard at his secured Floo.

Severus had collected her from London, and heedless of the fact that someone might see them he had Apparated himself and Hermione to Malfoy Manor.

Lucius ended his Floo call, Summoned his pomegranate juice (he did not always drink wine or whiskey), and seated himself in his chair to face Severus, and Hermione. He glanced askance at Severus, and nodded at the witch in his lap. Severus glared.

"What have you heard, Lucius?" asked Severus to deflect the admonishing/teasing nod from the older wizard.

"First item of business, your lack of disguise, and Apparition into the Ministry." Lucius wagged his finger at the younger man in mock chiding.

"Yes, Mother, I realise I erred," sneered Severus. "Was I discovered?"

"There was reported an uncorroborated sighting by the rather feather-headed receptionist, Alma Harper, in the Ministry Foyer. The Aurory has brushed it off as part of the hysteria that surrounded the building at news of Mr. Potter's inglorious demise."

Hermione's head lifted sharply, almost colliding with Severus' chin. "What about Harry? Do they know anything? Is there an investigation? How is Ron? Who is taking care of his body?"

Lucius answered, but did not deign to hurry his pace, "Molly and Arthur Weasley have claimed Mr. Potter's body but it will only be released after the autopsy. Mr. Ronald Weasley is reported as being in 'seclusion' after the discovery of his friend. The Aurory is investigating as they do believe there is a clear case of aggravated murder - meaning he was attacked." He took a sip of his juice, and ignored the pointed stare from Hermione that silently told him to keep talking. "'They' are Gawain Robards, head of the Aurory and Kingsley Shackelbolt, Minister for Magic. They are speculating that the audacity of Mr. Potter's murder is a warning to all the heroes of the... Voldemort War... that someone is coming."

"Was a signature left behind?" asked Severus softly with the foreknowledge that there was.

Lucius nodded. "Berger's card, the Ace of Spades."


	21. Chapter 21

**Voldemort's Assassin - Chapter 21**

**Incidentals Until…**

Lucius, who had more information about Madigan Berger, was at the Ministry meeting with Gawain Robards, head of the Aurory, and Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shackelbolt.

Hermione had cried herself to sleep, and under Severus' watchful eye she continued to sleep on the sofa Transfigured into a lounger in the parlour. He knew he could not just sit there staring at the young woman until Lucius returned, and so he had found a book upon dream-sharing between bonded magical couples.

As Severus read he discovered that dream-sharing phenomena had decreased in the last century as few couples were soul-bonded - the condition in which magic is not just compatible, it is one half of the other. It was the rise of the status, importance, and power of the Pureblood preserving the bloodline through marriages calculated to maintain that purity that had thrown the soul-bond out of favour. The soul-bond was not something that could be predicted, and it did not follow the strictures of bloodline breeding. Therefore it lost its importance.

The chapter that Severus read intrigued him when it went on to describe that it was the final union of the already soul-bonded that actually strengthened a magical family, and not how pure a family's bloodline was.

When he closed the book Severus looked up to see the young witch watching him from the comfort of the lounger.

"Are you feeling better, Hermione?" Severus asked gently. He hoped she would not weep again, but if she did he had clean handkerchiefs in his pocket just in case.

Hermione nodded, and sat up. "I feel sort of numb right now. My thoughts are… blurry." To centre herself Hermione looked towards the book he had been reading. "What's it about?"

Severus glanced at the book in his hand. "I was reading about dream-sharing. We did… share a dream… did we not? Or, did I sleep oddly?"

Hermione smiled faintly. "You had an issue with my Roman bath, Severus."

He nodded thoughtfully, but to her delight his cheeks coloured swiftly as he recalled more intriguing aspects of the dream. As surreptitiously as possible he made sure the book remained in his lap until he… _calmed_… down.

"Were you really in my dream?" Hermione blushed beautifully as she recalled how decadent she had been in her dream.

"I do believe so. You were on the verge of slipping under the water were you not, Hermione?" he asked rather a bit too politely.

She smiled as though to remove the awkwardness between them. "You woke me up. Thank you, Severus."

As fascinating as the dream-sharing was thoughts of a grimmer nature were making themselves known. Hermione asked where Lucius was, and then she wondered if Ron were all right. Severus watched as Hermione's shoulders bowed inwards and she stared at seemingly nothing.

"I don't know what to do without Harry, now," she mourned softly. "I've missed Ron but I missed the Ron I knew in school. Harry, though, he was my best friend after Hogwarts." Her smile was melancholy, and Severus moved from his chair to sit beside her.

"He annoyed me, as a child," said Severus delicately. "I did wonder, though, what he was like as a grown up. Would you tell me about him?"

Hermione nodded, and automatically leaned against Severus. He shifted so that he could easily drape his arm over her shoulders, and she rested her head against his chest.

"You know Harry became the head of Aurory Training Department. He had aspirations of becoming the head of the entire Aurory one day, but I think training suited him ever so much better. Did you ever know about Dumbledore's Army?" she asked.

Severus sighed. "Only too well; after the fact that is. Albus was quite proud of your little group. Although, I think he expected it of Mr. Potter. It was a hell of a nuisance being right under Umbrage's nose."

"I'm sure of it but it was the first time any of us thought we were actually doing something positive towards contributing to the war. Before then… before… well, it was a bit of a lark, really."

"To you it was a lark?" asked Severus. He could not believe that. He recalled that the entire staff believed Hermione Granger to be nearly pathological in her need to follow the rules; and despite this she managed to get into as much trouble as Messrs. Weasley and Potter.

Hermione shrugged. "Well, I remember scolding Harry and Ron more than once over many of the stunts they pulled but Dumbledore's Army was worth the risk."

Severus nodded, and absently kissed the crown of her head. "Although I was sure that I would have fully grey hair before the end of your final year at Hogwarts."

Hermione giggled, and Severus tightened his arm in a sharp jerk over her shoulders teasingly. She then shifted so she was more comfortable by slipping an arm across his waist. It felt… right to be held quietly yet by such strength.

"I assume that Mr. Potter was a much more responsible adult?" he asked so Hermione would continue talking.

"Oh! Harry was. He'd reconciled with his cousin Dudley but Petunia and Vernon would not even try. So Harry threw himself into his job, and then into the re-hab of Grimmauld Place."

"Hm. After seeing that house I could understand why the Blacks had become such a Dark family. I wonder if there were any vampires in that lot," mused Severus.

"I wouldn't be surprised if there had been," chuckled Hermione. "Harry told me that old house was so dark that it made him, in turns, angry then sad. But," she smiled, "he did bring light to the place. The kitchen was his favourite room and he had it wallpapered with sunflowers, and yellow paint. He found some terrific butcher block for the counters that was nearly blond, and all his dishes were in shades of yellow. He planned to do every room in different colours…" Hermione sighed sadly. "It's awful he'll never get to finish it."

"Was that all there was to your friend?" inquired Severus.

"Oh no! Did you know Harry did quite a lot of volunteer work at Merlyn's Foundling Home of War Orphans?" Severus shook his head but Hermione did not see the gesture. "He found out that the orphanage had literally been crammed with children of both Death Eaters and half-bloods. The place was foundering for lack of funds and all the children were lacking proper nutrition and medical care. Harry donated a lot of money to the orphanage, hired a crew to do repairs, and add-ons, and then worked with St. Mungo's to arrange medical care for all the children. He also visited the children to play with them and read to them." Hermione smiled softly. "I think he wanted to make sure that none of those children grew up the way he did."

Hermione started to sinful mournfully as she thought of all those orphaned children that had grown to love her friend.

Severus did not offer false words of hope, or good cheer, but held her quietly as he had done so a few hours before as she sobbed over the horrible loss of Harry. It was a cocoon of rightness, and safety, and infinite warmth that she wanted beyond this moment.

"I wish I could go to the Burrow," sighed Hermione wistfully.

"I would take you, but I cannot. Lucius will do so in my stead," stated Severus firmly.

"But they hate each other!" protested Hermione.

"Water under the bridge," came a smooth voice from the fireplace. Both jumped apart at the unexpected arrival of Lucius Malfoy, he frowned, prepared to tease them, but there was nothing of humour within him. He dropped wearily to his chair.

"What do you mean, water under the bridge?" Hermione had the awful thought of Lucius the Pureblood drowning the Muggle-loving family.

"My feud with Arthur ended the day of my trial before the Wizengamot. He had seen Albus' memories before-hand with the committee that had been formed specifically for the Trials of the Death Eaters; he learned the only way afforded me that would help my family to survive. I, too, spied for Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix although my role in his… army… was more openly adversarial than was Severus'." Lucius glanced up at Hermione who stood before him. She held a snifter of brandy for him. He took it gratefully. "After Narcissa left me, and then Draco turned his back on me I was convinced by Severus that if I were to ever have a chance at cleaning away the tarnish that the Malfoy name had become I would need to establish more than just an end to our feud but that I would need a solid relationship. Therefore, over the years since the end of the War myself and the family Weasley have been much more at ease with each other."

"It also seemed that once all the house elves but for Pratty were removed after Lucius' trial someone needed to teach that elf to cook since his efforts promised to poison us within the year," smirked Severus. "Molly came to the rescue."

"I shall take you to the Burrow, Hermione, but let us have something to eat first. I can then apprise Arthur of the situation so that he can take any safety measures for his family that he wishes to."

Hermione had returned to the lounger where she had curled up into its only corner. Even though Severus was properly on the end where a chaperone might designate the witch appeared alone, and terribly vulnerable.

Lucius sighed in exasperation, "Merlin, wizard! How you can sit there when she is obviously hurting is beyond me." Severus stared at Lucius darkly, but Hermione remained as she was. "Would you take her in your arms, you dolt?"

As if doing only what he was told, Severus shifted closer to Hermione and drew her into his arms. She sank into his, and Severus huffed very lightly as if his patience were put upon. Lucius leaned back in his chair most thoroughly smug.

* * *

**a/n: Do forgive the choppiness of this chapter. It seems that in keeping things organised on the computer I went and deleted this chapter BEFORE copying it. Needless to say I had to go and rewrite it.**


	22. Chapter 22

**Voldemort's Assassin - Chapter 22**

**The Burrow**

Hermione was never as graceful as she wanted to be when travelling by Floo but that did not matter as she was gathered into the motherly warmth of Molly Weasley the second she arrived. Arthur greeted Lucius by shaking his hand, and leading him to the living room where the other Weasleys sat in stunned silence.

Molly drew away but did not let go of Hermione. "Are you all right, dear?"

Hermione nodded but said, "No. I mean I am, but I'm not. I'm so confused, and angry, and I want Harry... ohhhh!"

"Oh child," Molly crooned and drew the weeping young woman back into her arms.

After the tears sort of trailed off, Hermione sniffled, and asked, "Ron. How is he?"

Molly sighed, and shook her head. "Furious. You know how Ron is. He came by here just long enough to drop Elly off since it was his weekend with her. Then he stormed out. He just needs to get his anger out, and then..."

Elly, a pretty two year old girl, was the result of Ron having cheated on Hermione. He had wanted to marry Elly's mother but she no longer wanted Ron. Still, the little girl was seen as a blessing to Ron, and his entire family.

At that moment Ron, shoulders slumped in abject defeat, his knuckles bloodied from hitting something, and tears running tracks down his cheeks, came through the door. "Mum!" he cried piteously and held out his arms.

Molly let go of Hermione, stroked her cheek, and then went to her youngest son. She drew Ron into her arms, and he sobbed terribly. Hermione, feeling helpless, and useless, could only watch the tragedy between mother and son. She realised in that moment that not only had she and Ron lost a brother, Molly had once again lost a son.

Ron, knowing he had to 'man up' drew reluctantly away from his mother. He then saw Hermione. He wanted to rush into the comfort of her arms but his own indiscretions and stupidity got in the way. All he could do was look mournfully at Hermione. And, his heart ached horribly.

Hermione stared at her friend, once her beloved beau, and she no longer cared about what he had done to her. She wanted her friend. That mouthy redhead that had befriended her when she was a know-it-all swot. She ran to Ron, threw her arms around him, and hugged him as tight as she could.

Ron sighed sadly, and after a moment with his arms limp at his sides he wrapped his arms around Hermione. "Harry's gone," he mumbled.

"I know, Ron," Hermione whispered as she sniffled. "I know."

**In The Burrow Living Room**

Lucius sat a little awkwardly in a chair layered with afghans, and other knitted things, that sat a bit low on the floor. To be fair, Arthur sat in a nearly matching chair that sent his knees above his elbows. The sofa was occupied by George Weasley, and his two elder brothers Bill, and Charlie. Charlie had been visiting his parents away from Romania when he had read the Daily Prophet with its awful headline. Ginny was far away in New Zealand where there was a game of Quidditch to be played.

"Ginny's coming home after the game," sighed Bill. George, reminded of his permanent separation from Fred, had been leaning against Bill and had said nothing since his father had Floo called him that morning.

"Where is... your middle child?" asked Lucius. Although the past was repaired between Weasley and Malfoy familys, he still felt out of place in the Burrow. "That Ministry..."

Charlie spoke up, "Percy the Git hasn't spoken to any of us since the Final Battle, Mr. Malfoy. I doubt he'd show up now."

Lucius nodded. "Arthur," he began, "you will need to secrete your family for safety."

"That is being worked on," Arthur replied solemnly. "I spoke to Kingsley about Harry. Molly and I will bury him with the rest of our family."

Ron stepped into the living room and sat down on the floor since that was the only place left to sit. "That's good, dad. Harry was my brother."

George perked up a little, and smiled. "Fred will look after Harry. Don't worry, Ron." With a sigh he then leaned his head on Bill's shoulder.

Ron grit his teeth. It was really all too much for him. Pushing himself up off the floor he ran out of the living room, went through the kitchen, and out the door.

Lucius watched while both Charlie and Bill produced 'manly' sniffles. Even after three years the loss of Fred Weasley was still a painful one.

Shaking his head at his youngest son's volatile grief, Arthur continued, "There will be an investigation... Lucius..." Arthur's lips tightened together and he huffed. "What you told me... they'll..."

Again Lucius nodded but more knowingly. "I have spoken to Auror Robards, and Minister Shackelbolt. I think they have quite enough information to effect a better investigation into Madigan Berger."

"Who's Madigan Berger?" asked Charlie.

"The Dark Lord's Assassin," replied Lucius. "It was his signature to 'sign' his work by leaving behind a playing card - the Ace of Spades."

Bill shook his head. "I don't understand. Why is there a Death Eater still running around? I thought they were all caught?"

"Madigan Berger was not a Death Eater, William," drawled Lucius. "I am sure... Voldemort would have wanted to brand the wizard but Berger was adamant that he worked better if he were truly... invisible."

"I hate to ask, but... what did Voldemort's Assassin do?" asked Charlie slowly.

"Whenever an unmistakable... _accident_... was needed it was usually Berger that performed the task," replied Lucius.

'An... accident?' mouthed Charlie.

"In the Muggle world," sighed Arthur a little too knowingly.

Bill's head turned sharply towards his father. "How would you know, Dad?"

"My division of Muggle Artifacts meant I was also available for some of the more... unsavoury... jobs that involved investigating suspicious accidents in the Muggle World." Lucius nodded. He knew that the Muggle Artifacts Department really had no legitimate role until after the Final Battle, and the Wizengamot demanded a complete overhaul regarding their knowledge of the Muggle world. "We could never find any connection to Voldemort, but we did find those playing cards. The Ace of Spades."

Hermione walked into the living room. Behind her was Molly who placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Arthur, Hermione will join the family when we bring Harry home. I've explained to her what it means to bury a wizard, and she wants to take part," Molly informed those gathered.

"That's good, Hermione," smiled Arthur.

"Until then, Miss Granger will stay with me," began Lucius.

"No I won't!" protested Hermione. "I have my own apartment, and my job...!"

Lucius scowled at her, "Marvelous! And, then you will not, Miss Granger, for you will make a most easy target for Berger. Do you think your friend was an easy target?"

"Harry's a... he was an Auror!" she spat. "He was no easy target!"

"However, Mr. Potter vanquished Voldemort, and Berger clearly is going after all the members of the Order of the Phoenix of which you, Mr. Weasley, and the unfortunate Mr. Potter were its most lauded, and very public, members." Lucius stood very swiftly, and before anyone realised what he was doing his wand was out, and aimed at Hermione. Hermione backed swiftly right into Molly.

The clamour was expected, but no one pointed their wand at the Slytherin. As much as trust had been gained it wavered in that moment since every Weasley present knew that Lucius could kill Hermione, and any one of them, before they could come to her defence.

Lucius languidly lowered his wand, but kept a sharp eye upon the witch. "It is a very good thing that ALL of you recall that I was trusted by Albus Dumbledore. I would not harm a hair on Miss Granger's head. Had I been Berger," here he glanced around at everyone, "you may trust my word when I say he not only would have killed her, but ALL of you as well." He then locked his gaze upon Hermione. "We shall visit your home, Miss Granger, so that you may gather whatever you might need for an extended stay at Malfoy Manor." He then lifted his gaze over Hermione's shoulder. "Molly, would you consent to act as chaperone for Miss Granger as it would cause certain tongues to wag with malicious gossip were it discovered she were living with a bachelor?"

Molly nodded. "I can do that, Lucius. I'll just pack a few things, and then Floo over. Arthur, you Charlie and Bill need to find Ron, get him home, and sit on him."

"Course, Mum!" agreed Charlie.

"No worries, Mum," echoed Bill rising from the couch.

Arthur rose from his chair, went over to Hermione, and gave her a strong hug. "I'll come get you in a few days so that we can say our farewells to Harry. For now, you just do as Mr. Malfoy says, and call here if you need to."

"Thanks, Mr. Weasley," sighed Hermione.


	23. Chapter 23

**Voldemort's Assassin - Chapter 23**

Severus drummed his fingers upon the arm of his chair. He glared at the fireplace where Lucius and Hermione had travelled to the Burrow by Floo two hours ago. He shifted in the chair, clasped his hands together, then stood abruptly to pace. Fleetingly he thought about brewing up some of his recent orders but then he immediately reminded himself that he had done that, and ruined an entire batch of Youngsters Cough Syrup.

After what seemed hours or days to Severus the flames of the Floo burst into green. He stepped back slightly knowing he would see Hermione and Lucius, but he found himself enveloped in a cloak of hand-knit worth, and the warmth of homemade bread; Molly Weasley had him in her usual way. Her hugs were always unabashed, and full-bodied like the most robust elf-made wine.

Even though Hermione was next to be followed by Lucius Severus ignored them as he put his own arms around Molly, and lay his head upon the crown of hers. His eyes were closed, and Hermione observed with wonder that the Potions Master appeared perfectly comfortable. He was in a state of bliss that only a son holding his mother might be in.

Molly let go of Severus and quickly drew her fingers down his cheek. He caught her hand in both of his hands. "I am truly sorry for the son you have lost, Molly." His words were almost formal, but Hermione heard in them a deep sincerity she had not expected to issue from the wizard.

Molly smiled. "Thank you, Severus. For Harry, we'll make sure that old devil doesn't get our girl." She then turned to Lucius. "Since I know you two boys have only eaten elf-cooked food, I will do the cooking while I'm here."

"Of course, Molly," nodded Lucius. "Our stomachs will be most appreciative. Pratty, despite your teaching, is not the best of cooks."

"Well, you either should learn, or hire someone." Molly sniffed, and left but not without a quick smile to Hermione, and a quick touch of her fingers to Lucius' hand.

Lucius removed his cloak, while Severus moved to divest Hermione of hers. "You were both gone quite awhile," observed Severus.

"Arthur had a bit of information to impart, and Hermione required a decent visit with her friends. Ronald Weasley was not about," Lucius replied as he poured himself a dram of Fire Whiskey.

Severus frowned. Hermione spoke up, "No. Ron was there but it was briefly. He hugged his mum, then left."

"I suppose you'll see him at the funeral then," sighed Severus as he poured himself a touch of whiskey, and one for Hermione as well. "I intend to accompany you, Hermione."

Just as Hermione was about to sip at her fire whiskey her head whipped toward Severus with a protest on her lips.

"Is that wise, my friend?" Lucius purred, interrupting Hermione.

"If the assassin knows you're alive..." Hermione babbled nervously.

Severus smirked. "I thought you wanted me to reveal myself, Miss Granger."

She glared at the wizard who sat across from his aristocratic friend. Severus was a study in casual indifference. She downed the whiskey, and just barely kept from coughing up a lung. That was powerful stuff!

"Fine. Feel free to paint a target on your back, _Professor_! I'm sure the assassin would love the help." Hermione stomped out of the parlour. Halfway to the entrance she was not sure where to go. She was supposed to stay in Malfoy Manor for her safety but at the moment the last thing she wanted to do was to be anywhere near that stuffed shirt Severus Snape.

Her warring mind finally decided her and she sat in defeat on the plush white carpet of the grand staircase.

Back in the parlour Severus was sipping his whiskey but there was a disgusted grimace on his face. As for Lucius he was slowly shaking his head. "And that is why you shall never find a witch to marry you, Severus."

The grimace on Severus' face turned to a thin-lipped glare for Lucius. The Malfoy wizard broadened his admonishment. "Miss Granger is our guest until the assassin is caught, or dead, Severus. So, do me the favour of extending your inimitable charm towards the young lady."

"Whatever are you talking about, Lucius?" growled Severus.

Lucius was up, and whipped the unfinished whiskey from his friend's hands. "Get off your bloody arse, and go apologise!"

As Severus looked up at his friend who towered over him, he decided it might be wise to do as he was told. Gently pushing Lucius aside he followed Hermione out of the parlour. In just a few steps he discovered her, head bowed, on the lowest step of the grand staircase.

"It seems I have offended you, _Hermione_, and it was not my intention to do so," Severus' voice was quiet, and terribly informal.

Hermione glanced up at him sideways. "That's an apology, I suppose?"

"Slytherins rarely apologise," said Severus taking a seat beside her.

"Because you're never wrong?" Hermione asked sarcastically but with a small smile.

"It is rare when we admit to wrong-doing, Hermione," he smirked to take the sting out of his words. He was slightly startled when Hermione giggled, leaned sharply toward him, and nudged her shoulder into his upper arm.

Severus could not stop the smile that briefly graced his sharp features if he had tried. He recognised the gesture as one that friends indulged in when teasing each other, or kidding around. It warmed him deeply that she not only understood that he had been joking but she had accepted it.

With a sigh, he sobered. "I really do regret the loss of your best friend, Hermione. Thus, I do wish to attend Mr. Potter's funeral but I shall do so under Polyjuice Potion."

Hermione nodded as she stared at her feet. "I think I sort of figured that out after I stormed out, sir... I mean, Severus." She turned her head, and smiled softly. "You seem to be having an easier time of saying my name than I do yours... Severus."

"You are not the annoying child you were, Hermione." He was very tempted to tug one of her loose curls. He did not, though. He rather felt the gesture might not be welcomed. "I see before me a young lady, and she is not Miss Granger..."

Hermione blushed, and smiled, "The know-it-all swot?"

He gave her a slow nod. "The woman before me is... Hermione. She is..." his voice faded as he looked away, and then conveniently down at his boots.

Hermione touched his forearm. "She is... what?" Her question was hopeful as she asked for him to finish his thought.

For a time Severus remained silent yet he stared at her hand on his forearm. Her hand was terribly... warm. Swallowing his nerves, he finally replied, "She is... not what I ever expected her to be."

Hermione blinked, and smiled so brightly that he felt its warmth in his soul. "That's the loveliest compliment I've ever heard, Severus. Thank you." She slipped her hand down his forearm, and then laced her fingers through his.

In that moment, there was silence but it was a good silence only interrupted when Severus tightened his fingers over hers.


	24. Chapter 24

**Voldemort's Assassin - Chapter 24**

**The Funeral - Part I**

Madigan Berger, in any other context, might make for a good-looking man. His height was average at just a little under six feet, his frame was in good shape at 13 and a half stone, his hair was a pleasing sand colour, and his features were such that many an older woman trusted him on sight. All of this made his life perfect as an assassin. He was able to get into most places many could not, and with his magical skill no door or ward was a problem to him. At one time Madigan Berger had been the premier Curse Breaker employed at age 22 by the goblins at an Australian branch of Gringotts Bank.

As a Curse Breaker Madigan had travelled the world over on assignment for the goblins. He had become fluent in their language, and well-versed in much of Goblin Magic. His travels took him to wondrous locales, and opened the hidden world that was more to his liking; a world of prostitutes, greed, sin, and murder. Madigan, if anyone asked a Death Eater, was more bloodthirsty than Lord Voldemort ever had been.

It was this calm ruthlessness that the young Tom Riddle had found alluring, and he had been smart to anchor the young Madigan Berger to his side. On the other hand, Madigan never agreed to the prison of the Dark Mark - as long as he was allowed to exercise his more base instinct; murder.

Since the Final Battle though Madigan had lived the life of an outlaw. The goblins had been looking for him since he had vanished to work for the Dark Lord, only after the Final Battle the goblins had shared with the Ministry For Magic enough information about Berger that he had been marked for Azkaban but recently Lucius Malfoy had added more incriminating evidence, and memories, that would be enough to send the assassin to the Veil of Death down below the deepest part of the Ministry, the Department of Mystery ruled by the monk-ish Unspeakables.

Madigan knew his days were numbered but he had set himself upon a Road of Revenge; to kill every last living member of the Order of the Phoenix. And, he had begun with that despicable Boy-Who-Lived-Twice Harry Potter.

Madigan grinned and the light that came from the flickering flames from his fire-pit caught the evil glimmer in his eyes. His place of residence was hardly an abode to boast of, it was a cave. There was fresh water that bubbled up from some hidden stream into a tiny puddle no bigger than his foot, and drained away if he did not catch it. As he ripped at the cooked flesh of some hapless rabbit that became his dinner, Berger recalled the last few minutes of Harry Potter.

The Assassin had shadowed his routine for months before his plan was set. Berger had been looking for routine, and although Harry Potter was careful all other times, he allowed himself to relax, and to walk through the rambling park opposite the row houses on Grimmauld Place.

The park was a pleasant one surrounded by trees, and iron fencing that was above the average height of a man. It was a Muggle-made park but wizards and witches often made use of the pretty spot of flora. At its centre was both a playground for children, and a small dog park covered with fresh cedar every night for Muggles to walk their dogs.

It was through this park, on its lazy paths, that Harry Potter walked every night at 8pm before turning for home. Halfway through he would stop to feed the pigeons, or geese, or sometimes swans, that lingered around and on the lake.

It was at this spot, on the seventh bench into the park, that Madigan had waited; hidden by the bushes. Harry Potter had been completely relaxed after feeding the birds his bread-crumbs, and had sat down upon the bench, and slouched into its comfort. The wizard had loosened his Ministry tie, and had thus exposed his throat. Harry had not erected any wards or spells to protect himself as he doubted that anyone would hurt him in the Muggle world.

Madigan had counted five of the young heroes breaths, and then he struck hard, with finality, and in the space of ten seconds he had the heart of the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice beating its last pulsations in his hand. Madigan then flipped one of his signature playing cards, the Ace of Spades, and one he had written a promise upon, and left the park.

**A Few Flashbacks The Day of Harry's Funeral**

Hermione smoothed non-existent creases from the skirt of her black dress for the hundredth time. Today was Harry's funeral, and she had yet to see Ron since that night she had gone to the Burrow. She knew he was all right, and he was back at the Burrow, but he had sequestered himself in his bedroom, and had rejected all of Hermione's Floo calls.

It had been a decent week at Malfoy Manor. She had only experienced one day of wandering about the huge Malfoy Library before Severus had recruited her as his assistant. Lucius had not allowed her to return to work. It had annoyed her that the aristocratic wizard was so cavalier with her life, but Severus had lectured her severely about the true danger she and others of the Order of the Phoenix were in.

As Severus' assistant he had told her he would pay her for her time, and that made forgetting her job a touch easier.

Molly had cooked for everyone, including Pratty who tended to slip under the table to eat since Molly had ordered him to eat with everyone else. Hermione had found it funny to learn that Lucius had become Molly's assistant in the kitchen - a room he later revealed he had never seen before. He also found that cooking was something he enjoyed.

So the week nearly flew by, at least for anyone not connected to Harry Potter. The Ministry had informed Arthur Weasley when they would release his body for the burial, and so the week had become a nearly impossible seven days of waiting. Both Slytherins had tried to tell Hermione to stop thinking about the funeral, and to just wait for Arthur to retrieve her. Neither Lucius nor Severus saw the sense in wasting thought upon something that was inevitable but Hermione could not quiet her thoughts.

Each day was a day that she relived days of school at Hogwarts. Her mind had also illustrated for her all those times that Harry came close to losing his own life due to Voldemort, or just due to his own 'rule-breaking' curiosity. At night she was plagued with nightmares of their seventh year spent in seeking the Horcruxes of Voldemort.

If it were not for the work that Severus was keeping Hermione busy with she would have been crawling the walls with madness.

Two days before the funeral brought news of two terrible things to Hermione; she had lost her job, and her apartment. Hermione was now without a job, and a home.

_"... you have a job, Hermione," said Severus with a slight note of exasperation to his voice. "You work for me." He carefully measured the powdered Billiwigs._

_"This is temporary, Severus," moaned Hermione. "Once Berger's caught then I'm back to nothing!"_

_Severus carefully poured the powdered Billiwig into the cauldron, stirred it twice and observed the change in consistency from liquid to a paste, then placed a Stasis Spell on the potion. He then faced Hermione. His glare was a dark thing of frustration with the witch who seemed determined to bewail her fate._

_"Hermio... look at me," he ordered. "Hermione. Look. At. Me." Hermione lifted her head from the potion recipe she was copying into one of Snape's journals. "Do not make me repeat this again; you... work... for... me." She started to open her mouth in protest but he held up his hand to stop her. "This is not charity, temporary, nor am I just trying to give you an excuse to do something so you need not think of the funeral. I am in need of an assistant and in four days you have shown that you are competent, and more agreeable to work with than Lucius."_

_Hermione frowned. "What's wrong with Mr. Malfoy?"_

_Severus grimaced, "The lazy arse complains constantly and requires a break every five minutes."_

"_Maybe he misses Narcissa," commented Hermione. She knew the main story which was that Narcissa had left her husband, and divorced him from the comfort of a villa in Italy._

"_Doubtful. Narcissa was at first disappointed in her husband for returning to the Dark Lord's side," related Severus. "and then she was angry with Lucius for putting their son's life at risk. Never mind that her own had been at risk simply for being connected to Lucius."_

"_But it came out during his trial that Lucius had been acting the whole time as a spy… there were memories and Dumbledore's portrait to show and tell the truth," Hermione brought up the past. "Just like the Headmaster did for… you."_

"_I was not wed to the witch and despite the truth of the matter, Draco nor his mother ever knew. Worse, Draco's life had been nearly lost to a whim of the Dark Lord's," replied Severus. He tried not to think of his own trial which had been conducted after his supposed death. As if the wizarding world could not allow a man in death peace. "To risk the only child she loved beyond her own life… Lucius' actions were unforgivable."_

_Hermione stared beyond the journal she was copying into as she recalled all those Death Eater trials she had attended with Harry. Lucius' trial was the most anticipated after it was announced that Dumbledore's Portrait would testify for the wizard. "When they asked him why he had changed sides, Lucius had looked at his son and wife. I really thought he has going to say something about bringing honour back to the Malfoy family name but he didn't. He just said, 'I had to change what I was for my son and my wife. They are all that matter to me.'" She sighed, and smiled wistfully. "It was… rather romantic."_

"_Except when Narcissa left with nearly all the house elves, 100,000 galleons, and the villa in Italy," snorted Severus._

"_Indifferent Slytherin," Hermione teased nudging his shoulder with hers._

"_Impractical Gryffindor," he riposted underlining his teasing by nudging her shoulder._

_Hermione chuckled, and shook her head. She then sobered. "If you're really serious, Severus, I would love to work with you. In just this short amount of time I feel like I have done more valuable work than nearly three years at the Ministry."_

_Severus nodded once and removed the Stasis Spell from his potion. "Then it is done, so no more misery about the loss of a job you had no love for."_

_For a long while there was comfortable quiet as Severus continued to brew, and Hermione completed her transcription (Severus would not allow a Copying Charm). When she put down her quill, she let out a sigh that distracted the Potions Master from his work._

_"Whatever is the problem now, Hermione?" asked Severus._

_"I don't have a place to live!"_

* * *

That evening Lucius had the solution to Hermione's living arrangements.

_"You will live here," he said simply as he took a bite of his herbed potato._

_"But I..." began Hermione._

_Molly put her foot down. "A young, unmarried witch cannot live with two wizards, Lucius!"_

_Lucius smirked as Hermione's jaw dropped in shock. "Not that your implication is without lascivious merit, Molly, Severus and I would __**never**_ _do a thing to harm Miss Granger's virtue."_

_Molly grimaced and shook her head. Hermione added, "It's a generous offer, Mr. Malfoy, but I really can't take advantage of your hospitality any longer."_

_"Nonsense, Miss Granger," Lucius objected firmly. "The manor has more rooms than I even know exist, and if you wanted privacy there is an entire wing I could have Pratty open."_

_Pratty jumped up from under the table and gave Hermione a hopeful look. "Pratty will clean the rooms to perfection, Mistress Hermione!"_

_"There," concluded Severus. wryly "You shall make Pratty ecstatic!"_

_"Molly, there is only one door at this time that leads to the east wing of the manor and if you would feel comfortable you may ward the entire wing with any chaperoning spells as you wish," offered Lucius._

_"But, no! Shouldn't I clean or pay rent or..." Hermione's voice faded in a losing battle._

_Pratty scowled, "**Pratty cleans**, not Mistress!" He then ducked back under the table to eat._

_"Rent?" scoffed Lucius. "I do not require rent."_

_Severus stepped in before Hermione could come up with an argument, "Hermione, you will deposit 2% of your weekly earnings in a savings account at Gringotts. That will do for your need of 'paying your way'. Now, accept Lucius' kind offer." Severus drawled smugly as he speared several green beans._

_"Well, I..."_

_"Very good!" interrupted Lucius. "With that done let us, you and I, dispense with this formality we have kept up, and address each other by our names. Hermione, welcome to Malfoy Manor."_

_Hermione gaped a bit until Severus glared at her to stop the ridiculous gawping, and she bowed her head. "Thank you, Mr. ... I mean Lucius. Thank you."_

_Molly smiled but in her eyes was a warning aimed towards the two wizards 'not to mess with Hermione, or else'. "Well, dear, after dinner we'll set up some wards over your new apartment."_

_Lucius snorted, and quickly popped a few green beans in his mouth. They were delicious! He congratulated himself on a fine job of cooking dinner._

* * *

_Just the next day Lucius had dragged both Hermione and Severus away from the lab and into the kitchen. "The two of you need to learn," spouted Lucius. "What are we doing today, Molly?"_

"_I do not need to learn how to cook," stated Severus with obvious derision._

"_I'm interested!" piped up Hermione._

"_You… are a Potions Master's assistant, Hermione. Not a domest… OW!" Severus bit his tongue as Molly rapped his head once with her wooden spoon._

_Molly waved her spoon at the Potions Master, "One of these days, Severus, you are going to have to cook for yourself."_

"_I can pick up Chinese," he interrupted moodily. Hermione giggled until Molly rapped the witch on her head with the wooden spoon._

"_And you, Missy. Don't think Harry didn't tell me about all the donuts you were eating as meals. You, both of you, are going to learn and I refuse to listen to any guff about it." Two disgruntled faces joined the bright anticipation of Lucius as he waited. "Now, we're going to make Yorkshire pudding, dumplings, crown roast, and diced vegetables. Is everyone ready?" Severus grumped. Hermione rubbed her head, but nodded. Lucius began to take out all the pans he thought they might need for this feast. _

_"What about baked potatoes?" asked Lucius as he dropped all the pans near a shiny new oven he had recently purchased._

_They all winced at the clatter but Molly just gave the older man a smile of indulgence as she patted his hand. "You and my Arthur... you both do love your potatoes!" Molly chuckled, and she began the lesson._

_Later, as everyone indulged, they all agreed that the afternoon's work was a success. Severus particularly enjoyed the diced vegetables (that he had prepared, and cooked), Hermione, who rarely ate meat, thought the roast was perfection, Lucius loved the baked potatoes that swam with bacon, sour cream, and butter, and Pratty thought the dumplings were both yummy..., and bouncy._

* * *

Hermione smoothed the skirt of her dress, again, then patted the awkward braid that fell down her back. Her Braid Charm had been useless the four times she tried it. She dreaded the funeral and wished she could be brewing, or cooking, or helping Pratty to clean her new apartments. She didn't want to say goodbye to Harry… she wasn't ready to let him go.

"Oh Harry... this is not fair... not fair at all." Hermione dabbed at the tear that fell slowly down her cheek.

Once more she smooth non-existent wrinkles from her skirt, and gave the braid a dirty look. Finally not able to stand the mess it was in, she tugged it all apart, and ran her brush over the curls.

She jumped as a pop of Apparition sounded behind her.

"Mistress Hermione! Masters Severus and Lucius say you come downstairs now. Master Lucius is saying he will send one of his nasty peahens after you!" Pratty smiled, then glared at her then smiled again before vanishing.

Hermione broke into a sudden run that propelled her out of her bedroom, and down the grand staircase to where three wizards waited for her. One wizard was unfamiliar to her but he looked a great deal like Lucius, yet older.

"Severus?" she squinted at the white-haired wizard whose hair was cut in a severe military style. The white goatee that matched the hair was stiffened to a point that curled upward, and looked dangerous. If anything, his scowl was even scarier on this face than on the face of Severus Snape.

"Polyjuice Potion," replied Severus his voice a smooth octave lower, gravelly, and pitched with a distinct French accent.

"May I present to you my grand-Uncle, the Commander of the Haephaestus Fleet of France, Darius Malfoi? Miss Hermione Granger, my grand-Uncle." Lucius introduced the Polyjuice'd version of Severus Snape.

Hermione curtseyed, and giggled softly. "Pleased to meet you, Commander Malfoi."

Severus nodded, and rolled his eyes at Hermione's giggle, and Lucius' smart-arsed smirk. He turned towards the third wizard, "Arthur, do you think we might leave now?"

Arthur, who was too busy thinking about his family, and the precautions they had had to take to be careful about Voldemort's Assassin just pulled out an old boot and held it in front of himself.

"Kingsley is coming and he is bringing four Aurors to hopefully keep everything safe. We can leave in just one minute," replied Arthur.

In 60 seconds the boot portkey yanked the four of them from Malfoy Manor and directly into a large group of people that were huddled in conciliatory groups, and were interspersed with Weasley redheads. Hermione saw Ron with his mother, and broke from her escorts, and ran to him.

"Ron!" she cried as she threw herself at him.

Ron did not hesitate, and caught Hermione tightly in his arms. Both began to weep softly. "Sorry, 'Mione," hiccupped Ron. "Shoulda talked to you earlier but I just couldn't."

Hermione pulled away, conjured a handkerchief, and wiped at his tears. "Hush, Ron. There's no need to apologise. I just want to know how are you doing?"

Ron shrugged then spoke softly. "Mum told me I can't wither 'cause I have Elly, and she doesn't have anyone."

Hermione smiled softly. "Smart witch, that woman." She placed her palm over Ron's heart. "But really, are you going to be all right, Ron?"

Severus, in the guise of Lucius elder uncle, spied Hermione in the arms of her ex, that numbskull redhead, Ron Weasley. His eyes sparked dangerously and a sudden, and unexpected shock of jealousy jolted down his spine. His shorter fingers tightened around the staff that served as his focussing tool for his magic. In reality the staff was the Potions Master's wand. And, Severus was gripping the staff so hard he would break it, or hex Weasley.

A gloved hand gripped Severus' upper arm, and Lucius purred under his breath, "Uncle Darius, allow me to introduce you to the eldest of the Weasley children, William." Lucius' tugged him away from the sight-line of Hermione and Ron. Severus tried to snap his arm out of the wizard's implacable grip but Lucius drew him over to the side of a nearby tree.

"Whatever is the matter with you?" hissed Lucius so only Severus could hear. "You look ready to kill."

"It is because of that dolt's actions that Hermione suffered poverty and the indignation of that vapid... job... at the Ministry." His heated glare met the silvery blue eyes of Lucius. "And, she's holding him like... as if he is still her beau!"

"Hush!" snarled Lucius. "We shall address your idiotic jealousies later, my friend. For now let us separate ourselves to the friends of this gathering. I do believe I spied Minerva." Lucius chuckled and pushed his 'uncle' ahead of him. "The old cat still does not care for me."

"Smart cat," mumbled Severus.


	25. Chapter 25

**Voldemort's Assassin - Chapter 25**

**The Funeral - Part II**

Much to Severus relief Ron left Hermione to join his brothers, and Hermione became flanked by the two Malfoy men. If there were strange looks thrown her way, Hermione ignored them. She was here to say goodbye to her friend, and it was only Harry that mattered.

Arthur Weasley conducted the Old Ceremony in a language Hermione was unfamiliar with. Severus had very quietly whispered the translation to her; a chant...

_To the earth a boy was born_

_To the wind the boy was a gift_

_To the fire he was a guardian_

_To the water he was a dream_

This chant was spoken three times. As each line was chanted by Arthur Hermione felt the earth rumble, the wind blow, lightning streaked across the sky, and a bowl of water in front of Arthur emitted a thin, burbling stream into Harry's open grave.

Arthur then turned to the wooden coffin that held Harry's body, and he asked that family come first to bestow their blessings. Hermione had thought to be with friends when this time came but Molly had assured her that she was to be counted as family since Harry had often referred to her as his 'big sister'.

The blessings were gifts from each family and friend that were dropped into Harry's open coffin. George, walking with Bill, had brought a Weasley Skiving Box. Hermione had not heard his voice since the death of his twin in the Final Battle. Here George spoke with the ghost of a smile on his face.

"Fred will take care of you, Harry, but do me a favour and keep him on his toes." Fred then kissed two of his fingers, touched them to Harry's cold cheek, and whispered, "Time to go home, little brother."

The same scene was enacted with the other Weasleys. Bill lay a small bottle of sand from the beach around his cottage next to Harry. Charlie tied the baby dragon's tooth he had always worn in his ear around Harry's neck. Ginny, walked with her mother to bestow her blessing, a single red rose. Hermione could not hear her but there were tears in Ginny's voice.

Molly, as matriarch of the Weasleys, put a selection of Harry's favourite treacle tarts beside him. She touched her lips to his cheek, and whispered, "From the moment we met, sweet boy, I knew you were one of my own. Let my love follow you home, dear Harry."

Ron went to the coffin as the last of the Weasley family. Beside him was his two year old daughter, Elly. In his hands was a shiny, gold Snitch. "Remember this Snitch, Harry? First one you ever caught, mate." Ron smiled bitterly. "I wanted to follow you, mate. You're the best friend I've ever had," he sniffled softly as he opened Harry's hand and put the Snitch against his palm. "Elly needs me so I should stay with her. You go on home. Wait for me. I'll be along when I'm old." Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and Elly took her father's hand. Hermione could hear the little girl cooing to him much as Molly did to her children when one was upset.

Hermione then started to walk toward's Harry's coffin but to her mortification she nearly stumbled. She would have fallen to her knees but Severus, as Darius Malfoi, had caught her and continued forward with her.

Hermione was grateful for Severus' presence beside her, and so she swallowed her tears, and placed a folded letter on his chest. "All the things I ever wanted to tell you, Harry. But most of all that I love you, and I'm going to miss you awfully." She kissed her fingers, and touched his cheek. "Home is waiting, Harry."

Severus then approached the coffin. He did not speak aloud but Hermione watched as he placed a familiar textbook next to Harry: _Advanced Potions._ The textbook that Harry had used his last year at Hogwarts that had made him such a good Potions student.

Severus bowed, and whispered, "I wish you a pleasant journey home, Mr. Potter."

* * *

**a/n: The funeral ceremony is partly imagined, and partly taken from an old Bohemian Funeral Blessing to send a family member Home to Christ; or in this case home to everyone that was family to Harry. My apologies to every reader who thought I was a terrible writer for killing off Harry. After this story, you will love the next one tentatively titled: I Don't Want to be a Hero.**


	26. Chapter 26

**Voldemort's Assassin - Chapter 26**

**An Interlude - Hermione's New Home**

Hermione carried the bulk of her belongings - clothing, a few photos, and knick-knacks - in a paper grocery bag as she walked behind Lucius along the main corridor for the second floor. He had draped over one arm Hermione's rather worn travelling cloak.

What Hermione did not understand was all this importance Lucius was putting into her moving from one room (a guest bedroom) into another one. She just wanted to drop all of her stuff in the new bedroom, and then maybe forget herself for awhile then work in the lab with Severus. She felt like she was being escorted to the secret treasure belonging to the Queen of Sheba.

"I really do appreciate the room, Lucius, but I..."

He stopped her evocation of gratitude when they stopped before two adjoining doors of white pine carved with delicate vines, thorns, and roses. Over the join of both doors hung a large, oval portrait of a delicate woman with her honey hair pulled up into a soft bun on her head, and surrounded by edelweiss.

"Who is she?" asked Hermione with curiosity.

"Elisabeth Blackwell. Noted as the first female doctor officially recognised by her male peers. An incredible woman and… witch," smirked Lucius knowingly.

Hermione glanced over her shoulder at him. "She was a witch?"

"Indeed. Her fame in our world comes from having organised our present system of medical care, and she encouraged the further building of hospitals of Healing Magic in Australia, New Zealand, Austria, and Switzerland. Before her Healing Magic was accepted as being only wizard magic. Witches did not practice it, and in some of the smaller conclaves, were not permitted to do so. Noted witch Dilys Derwent proved that witches could be just as powerfully creative as wizards were in Healing."

Lucius' eyes rolled and he clucked his tongue at the young witch. "You are a very intelligent young witch, my dear, but you need to pay more attention to your History of Magic."

With a tap of his wand, the doors opened onto a receiving area populated by a shelf of light reading books, a ladies writing desk from the 18th century, three small side tables whimsically carved with piping and dancing satyrs, and six chairs of polished and stained white pine. The decor of dove marble tiling on the floor was contrasted by honey stained pine wainscotting, and pale wallpaper of delicate vines, and roses. Scattered throw rugs of white with an abstract design of blues and greens lent warmth, and comfort to the room. French glass doors led to a small breakfast balcony that overlooked one of the many gardens on the Malfoy estate.

Hermione's jaw dropped. Lucius nodded. "Understated, I expect, but Severus did tell me you would not care for the more... ostentatious taste my father displayed. Therefore, Pratty gathered a few of his friends to make some adjustments."

Lucius ushered her into the receiving room. Ignoring her look of awe, he continued, "Through that inner door is a short hallway that leads to your inner sanctum. The decor is very plain as I thought you might wish to do your own decorating. You have an empty library to populate with any books or scrolls you wish, and there is a second ladies writing desk in there that I had Pratty supply with parchment, linen stationery, quills, and inks. Opposite the library is a small kitchen and dining area should you desire to eschew mine and Severus' company at meals. Of course you are welcome to use my library, or to join us in the main parlour at any time." He smiled, genuinely, Hermione noted. He finished, "The bathroom is..." Lucius shrugged, then smiled, "... a touch large, but I have a penchant for bathing and expect a woman's desire must be equally desirous of luxury. Your bedroom has a fireplace, a shelf for books or knick-knacks, a door and there is a balcony with an enviable view of the east garden. It is a magical window so you can spell it for any outdoor view on the estate. I think you shall find it all comfortable."

Hermione gaped in silence for a moment, then forced a cough from her mouth. "Mr. Malfoy! This is not at all what I expected. I mean a bedroom would surely have been enough... this...is..."

"Charming, I hope. And, it is Lucius, do not forget, Hermione. The east wing has been woefully unused so you might as well live here. A bit of restructuring was done, and you still have the curved walls of the circular tower, but I believe that only lends character to your new home. What do you think, my dear?"

Hermione had dropped her bag and was running her hands over the satiny back of one of the chairs. "It's all mine?" she asked softly.

Lucius beamed. "Oh yes! Do you like it?" His voice dropped to a hopeful one.

"I'm just..." she turned slowly around. "I'm stunned, to be honest. But," she smiled, "Yes, I do like it. I cannot wait to see the rest!"

"I shall leave you to that then, Hermione. Will you join us for dinner? I am trying out a recipe Molly sent to me. Something called 'meatloaf'."

Hermione nodded. "I'll be there. Six o'clock?"

Lucius nodded. "We shall see you then, Hermione. Enjoy acquainting yourself with your new home." Lucius bowed himself out of the receiving area, and closed the double doors. Once Hermione was sure the wizard had walked far enough away she let out an excited whoop of joy, and she jumped up and down several times before pushing through the inner door to the rest of her apartment.

Outside the door to what was the east wing of Malfoy Manor (and now Hermione's new home) stood Lucius with a very self-satisfied smirk on his face. He then turned, and strolled away down the corridor.

* * *

Moments later Severus stepped through a door hidden beneath the west side of the grand staircase as he left his lab behind. He had removed his potions apron and was patting down the front of his frock coat; it was unbuttoned. As he lifted his head he spied Lucius coming down the stairs. He also saw the smirk on the wizard's face.

"What has you so insufferably cheerful, Lucius?" asked Snape as he walked over, his boot heels clicking smartly on the marble floor. He adjusted a cuff of his shirt.

"I just showed Hermione her new... '_bedroom_'." He chuckled. "She was suitably impressed."

"I do hope you were restrained with the marble and gold," muttered Severus. He walked beside Lucius and they both stepped into the parlour.

"I only had Pratty and his friends decorate the receiving chamber, and in quite subtle tones. The inner sanctum I left white so that the young lady may decorate to her heart's content."

"Meaning, she will not do a thing," chuckled Severus thinly.

Lucius frowned. "What do you mean, Severus? I expect her mind to be wheeling with possibilities!"

"You do realise that Hermione did not come from money, Lucius? She is a very frugal young lady, a habit she was taught from birth. Unless she can pay for it she will not spend a dime on... decor. And, she will not accept your largesse to pay for it."

Lucius frowned and collapsed in his chair. With his fingers he rubbed his forehead tightly. Then his fist hit the arm of his chair. "You will simply have to pay her more, my friend!" He was triumphant with the simplicity of his solution.

Severus shook his head. "Put me in a Thumbscrew Hex if you wish but I shall not pay that witch more than she is worth."

"But you said she was very good at potions," reminded Lucius.

"I did," conceded Severus as he sat down after pouring himself a small brandy. "However, she is neither an apprentice, nor an adept at potions. She has a great deal to learn, all of which I will certainly teach her, but she will earn according to what she knows, and not a knut more."

Lucius slumped. "Well. Hmph." And, then he actually pouted. "That is an extremely unfair and a completely logical explanation."

"Hm." Severus gave the disgusted man a small smile.

**Near to Six in the Evening**

Lucius was busy in his kitchen, and Hermione had arrived in the parlour to find Severus reading with a pair of rectangular reading glasses perched on his nose. His nose caught the whiff of her perfume - a curious medley of sandalwood and vanilla - that stirred pleasantly in his body. He carefully closed his book, and looked upward.

"Good evening, Hermione. Are your new rooms to your liking?" he asked smoothly.

Hermione smiled, and dropped herself onto the loveseat, and curled her feet under her. "I love them, Severus. Did you know about them?"

Severus shook his head. "I suspected, of course, but I could not be sure. The west tower was destroyed by the... war... and by the many searches the Aurors perpetrated on the manor. The east tower fared better..." he shrugged as he Summoned a touch of wine for the witch. "Lucius just chose not to use it once his home was his again. I think he had some fancy that the east tower would crumble as had the west and save him the cost of demolition."

"Well..." said Hermione as she took the glass that waited for her in mid-air. "You should see that library. Bit bare, but I can't wait to fill it!"

Severus smirked lightly, and Summoned a package that sat on the floor. With a negligent wave of his hand he nudged it over to where Hermione sat. Hermione caught the package, and nearly fell sideways with its weight.

"What is it?" asked Hermione as she ran her fingers over the green wrapping paper.

"Something for your library." He watched in bemusement as she ripped the paper off to reveal five books, and one scroll. "And, something for your education."

"Bachman's Perennials, The Heart of the Matter - The Uses of Insects in Potions, Cassandra's Treatise on the Subject of Emotive Energies in Magic, A Compendium of Perfumed Notes, The Arithmantic Principles of Perenelle Flamel, and..." Hermione unrolled the scroll but she could not read it since it was in Greek.

Severus stood and walked over to her. "Socrates Discussion of Poisons in Flora." He tapped the scroll. "No magic. Learn to read Greek, and then you can read the scroll." He then handed her the book he had been reading. "This is just for leisure."

Hermione took the book and ran her fingers over the slightly raised, engraved, gold-leaf title. "The Autobiography of Healer Elisabeth Blackwell." Hermione looked up at Severus and the bright smile with her sparkling eyes sent a whirlwind of... well, he could not even voice in his own mind what the frisson of energy was but it caused a physical reaction that made him thankful for the concealment of his frock coat!

Hermione felt a pleasant melting warmth that caused a sudden, and exceedingly charming blush of colour to rise from her throat to her cheeks. She suddenly cast her gaze down towards the floor, and was very glad when Pratty chose that wonderfully awkward moment to arrive, and announce dinner.


	27. Chapter 27

**Voldemort's Assassin - Chapter 27**

**The Wee Hours - 3 Days After the Funeral**

Severus could not sleep. His bed was awfully comfortable, at any other time, but tonight it might as well have been a bed of creek pebbles. Usually it was the nightmares that made his bed so uninviting but tonight it was more pleasant thoughts; thoughts he ought not to be having.

He drew in a deep breath, and imagined her scent falling around him like ghostly mist. A combination of comfort, sensuality, hearth, home, earth, and touch. Sandalwood and vanilla. A scent that brought to him memories he had never owned; warm bread, a shared love of coffee, laughter and smiles, and sharp intelligence that questioned his own.

Hermione. Even her name was an incantation to secrets Severus felt he had no right to. Yet, his mind was not his own, and his thoughts took him to one afternoon in the Malfoy Library when he found her curled up on one of the cushioned window seats, with the sun from outside peeking through the weeping willows to warm her. Upon her lap was some dreadful old tome that appeared bigger than she; the pages a heavy parchment, and stiff with age. She took notes using that Biro, that Muggle pen she preferred to quills because she could chew upon the end of it without fear of ink spatters.

Severus had said nothing to disturb her that afternoon. He had just quietly watched, and then he had left. But his mind, that tricky beast, conjured up the image of that same afternoon.

_Severus moved quietly to Hermione's side, and sat beside her where he could bathe in the scent of her, and tempt himself with her maddening curls._

_She smiled at him, and he loved that smile instantly. It was the shining sun itself, drawing him in as if from the depths of his old dungeons into the world of the living. Her smile invited, it offered, it accepted. It was uncanny that she was so pleased to see him, when she ought not to be._

_The Potions Master was a helpless acolyte. No slave to pain, not hidden from comfort, but drawn into her subtlety as no other man would be._

Severus shifted on his bed again, and threw aside the annoying bed covers, as his muscles tightened in pleasure, and as a hardness grew to a tower that refused denial. He bit his lower lip, and dispelled the images his traitorous mind had painted within his soul. It was impossible, though. He could not pull away from that which he wanted to drown in.

Sandalwood. Vanilla.

* * *

Hermione could not sleep. Her mind swam with pleasant images of a tall man, dark of the cloth, and the hair, but opening up a side to himself she had never thought existed. Severus Snape walked with purpose, possession, and surety through her mind. Without hesitation he sat beside her and spoke equally to her of many subjects.

The conversation was very welcome, but she had recently become aware of a scent of pine, and parchment, and dried herbs that clung to Severus. His scent spoke of mystery, guile, of secrets shared with none. Yet in her mind he whispered to her words innocent but the breath that carried those words was heated, and forbidden for in his breath was an older knowledge of something that had long... well, not frightened her, but it had caused her to... hesitate… to wait. That deliberation had been one that annoyed Ron when he wanted more than just kisses.

It was then when her thoughts skirted that dangerous, sinfully delighted edge, that she felt a wonderfully traitorous warmth pooling where it should not.

Hermione threw off her covers, and caught that her breathing was rapid, as if she had just run several miles. She felt she ought to be dizzy but she was not, and her body drifted into that shuddering warmth, embraced by it, and she thought of his hand in hers, his cheek against hers, and she wanted so very much to kiss away the samite trap that was his voice.

Hermione died a pleasant little death before sleep finally claimed her, and imparted to her dreams that teased, delighted, and left her wanting.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy ought to be sleeping the innocent sleep of the just, which generally he did, but the past was creeping up on him. Visions of Narcissa stealing away to the 'secret courtyard' at Hogwarts to be with him between classes, the day Draco was born, then his first step, and the first time he called for his '_papa_'. The darker side was Narcissa's disappointment in him, her tears as she walked her last down the long driveway away from Malfoy Manor, and from him. Yet, even worse, as he opened his eyes and shoved himself from his bed, was the memory from a year ago when he had made an embarrassing appeal to Narcissa, his ex-wife, to return to his life.

Narcissa was living in Italy where the family Black (the Tristeans) originated. She lived in a mansion that fronted on the water, and she was affianced to a swarthy Italian who had wine running in his blood. Lucius had not spoken personally to Narcissa but he had stolen sight of her from the safety of a public cafe'. Any dream of repairing his family was shattered as she met her lover with a kiss she had once kept only for him.

Lucius was lonely. He knew that eventually he would repair his relationship with Draco, but Narcissa would never step foot in Malfoy Manor again. With Hermione within these halls, then Molly, Lucius had become all too aware that the gentility of a woman made a house into a home.

He missed someone to touch, to kiss, to share his hopes, his dreams, and even his darkest thoughts with. A woman's love would forgive the worst of him, and accept the whole of him when there were nights he could not even accept himself.

Lucius belted the silk robe around his naked body, and sat down, instead of in a chair, upon the floor in front of the fire. He was older now but Lucius still kept his body limber by practising Bushido Zen - a Samurai conditioning that was not just for the body, but kept his mind sharp.

At this twilight hour of the night when it seemed even the minutes had stopped their forward movement, Lucius would take mind and body through those exercises that settled his thoughts, and cooled his blood. Tonight, though, he could not find it in himself to draw upon the Discipline.

With his heart calm he could think clearly of his present. Julia. He had taken her in his arms never thinking that with her he might live again. To her it was his thoughts had settled. A small voice urged him to listen to what Julia had done to his heart.

In this small moment of twilight, when Lucius did not feel as certain as he portrayed himself to be, and his fear called silently out to the old gods he instead would pray… to Julia.

* * *

The Assassin slept peacefully as he dreamt of his next assignment. It was rather fun whittling down the Pureblood family of redheads. His next victim would devastate them all, confuse, anger, and terrify them. They would gather close making his job even easier.

Madigan Berger dreamt of beating hearts, and his body bathed in blood while his master looked upon him as a beneficent angel.


	28. Chapter 28

**Voldemort's Assassin - Chapter 28**

The owl with the Daily Prophet practically screamed its headlines just as Pratty interrupted breakfast with an urgent Floo call in 'Master Lucius' study. As Severus was not excluded he dropped his napkin on the table, and followed Lucius to his study.

Lucius cast a cushioning charm for his knees on the Travertine tiled hearth, and knelt before the green flames. Severus kept out of the sight-line, just in case it was not either Molly or Arthur. In the flames a face of defined, square jaw formed, and Severus knew that the Minister of Magic was calling.

"Good to see you, Kingsley," nodded Lucius. "What might I do for you today?"

"Before I speak plainly, is your Floo encoded?" asked Kingsley.

"It is, Kingsley. Speak plain. Tell me what this is about."

Kingsley spoke quickly, "If you have not read the Daily Prophet its headline is false. The Assassin made a mistake in going after Charlie Weasley. He is injured, but not dead, and he came away with a memory of the attack that the Aurors investigating Harry's murder say will be helpful. Would you come, and view the memory with myself, and Head Auror Oliver Wood?"

"I can do that, Kingsley. When do you want me there?" asked Lucius.

"Can you come in an hour?" asked the Minister.

Lucius nodded. "I shall be there."

Kingsley's head vanished, and the green flames faded back to normal fire. Lucius called for Pratty, ordered the news to be brought, and the elf returned with the Daily Prophet held in his hand. Severus took the paper, unfurled it, and gazed down at the large headline that proclaimed the murder of Charlie Weasley.

"I have my doubts that Berger made a mistake," muttered Severus.

"As do I, Severus. The easiest way to destroy the family would be to gather them together in one place," replied Lucius. "Hence, go after the Weasley that is furthest away, and they shall all gather to keep safe."

"And, so they must be separated." The two men left the study, and met Hermione making her way towards the parlour. She started to smile at the two men, but halted at their grimaces.

"What happened?" she asked, suddenly alert.

"Something has occurred, Hermione, but be assured that the Daily Prophet, according to a directive by the Ministry, has it wrong." He unfurled the newspaper to reveal the disturbing headline.

"NO!" Hermione snatched the newspaper from Severus. "You say this is wrong, Severus? Is Charlie all right?" she demanded hopefully.

Severus spoke calmly, "We know that Charlie survived, Hermione. Lucius, since he gave information to Kingsley about Berger, is going to see him, and we should have more information soon." Severus then took the newspaper from her. "As for now, you may be of assistance in getting the Weasleys relocated." As the wizard and witch were leaving the Potions Master could be heard to ask, "You are still on good terms with Minerva, are you not, Hermione?"

**Severus Has An Office**

Hermione followed Severus through the door of a room on the second floor. There was a shelf of books, one shelf that held several potions with notes attached to their bottles, an inner door with no doorknob, a fireplace, and a very large window that was arched, overlooked one of the Malfoy gardens, and let in enough light to lighten the room. Also in the room was a very large, antique desk with its surface cluttered with inkwells, parchment, quills, charts of various sort, and two rather comfortable chairs for visitors. Along the window a nook had been built for when one wanted to escape the desk but continue working.

"You have an office?" asked Hermione as her eye caught sight of a pair of silver rimmed glasses lying casually upon all the clutter on the desk.

"I do manage to work in places other than the lab, Hermione." He smirked briefly, sat at his desk, put on the reading glasses, and picked up a parchment paper scratched with black and red ink titled, WEASLEYS. Hermione Summoned a chair, sent it so that it was next to Severus, sat down, and leaned over to study the notes Severus had made.

"These are all safe houses that I knew of when Albus was... alive," began Severus.

"Why not just put them all in one?" asked Hermione.

"Normally that would be the solution but Berger tries to create the most havoc at one time as possible. He is sending a message to the Order for having been instrumental in removing the wizard who was his Master."

Hermione frowned as something puzzled her. Severus continued, "The attack on Charles Weasley was not a killing one. I have no need to see his memory of this since I am certain Berger did not intend to kill Charles."

"But, why not?"

"Berger wants the entire Weasley family in one spot so he can take care of them at once. I have no doubt that the Burrow is a primary target as it is their home. Thus, to foil Berger we must separate the family and secret them in safe houses until this is ended."

Hermione nodded. "What of the other members of the Order? Is anything being done to protect them?"

Severus grimaced as he tapped his chin with one index finger, and looked down at the paperwork he had done on the Weasleys. "Kingsley currently believes that the adult members of the Order of the Phoenix can take care of themselves. Safe houses, of which there are two known, have been offered to take care of the children not yet at Hogwarts. As Lucius updated me last night Minerva is keeping the children that are students restricted to Hogwarts."

Hermione nodded. "That is small help. What can I do, Severus?"

He laid the parchment in front of her. "I know of at least a dozen safe houses that Albus owned that no one in the Order knew of. When he..." Severus swallowed guiltily, and found Hermione's comforting touch on his arm. "When... Albus... died... none of the houses were listed in his holdings as part of his estate. Neither, as I discovered, did they go to Abernathy Dumbledore." He tapped the page. "These houses are still under Fidelius, and several other protective wards that Albus and I both crafted. We could farm out the Weasleys into these homes, and offer more protection to other members should they wish such... invulnerability."

"All right," agreed Hermione slowly. She then caught Severus' gaze with her own, and he thought he might just melt into the compassion that dwelled in those amber spheres. "What can I do?" She laced her fingers in his, tightened her hand, and Severus swallowed for a reason that had nothing to do with guilt. He also shifted as imperceptibly as possible in his chair.

Severus coughed to catch his breath, and to slow down his heartbeat. "I need you to contact Minerva... to see how she might react to my... resurrection."

Hermione was silent a moment as she continued to trap Severus' gaze with her own. He had spent so much time explaining to her that his life was content, and now she was uncertain of what he was implying. "You want... me? To tell Minerva that you are really alive? Severus, I..."

"No," Severus shook his head. "The articles in the Daily Prophet have painted Minerva a shrew who is glad of my death and hopes me suffering in Abbadon. You know that Rita Skeeter is more about sensationalism rather than truth. It is my... hope... that where Skeeter wrote negatively of Minerva that she did so speciously."

Hermione smiled and patted his arm as she knelt down on the hearth. "You want me to suss out the truth! I can do that, Severus. Stay out of her line of sight, and I'll see what I can discover."

Hermione checked her watch for the time, then grabbed a pinch of Floo powder, and threw it into the flames. "Minerva's office, Hogwarts!" she called.

Severus half-listened through the pleasantries until Minerva asked, "I'm curious about your mystery of Severus' old Apparation Licence. Was there ever any sort of outcome?"

"Well, I... uhm..." Hermione hedged a little too tellingly. She felt a nudge at her shoulder, saw Severus next to her under a Notice-Me-Not Charm, and glared at his teasing as he mouthed the words, 'subtle!' "Well, I sort of haven't really pursued it... uhm, why do you ask?"

Minerva sighed unhappily. "When you and I spoke ghosts of the past were stirred up." She sniffed, and Hermione wondered if she was thinking of Harry who had taken to visiting her regularly for tea after the war. "I'd started thinking of those days and how awful they were, and I thought of Severus. It was such a terrible time and there were so many, unfortunately myself included, who thought the worst of him."

"Because of Albus?" Hermione ventured.

"That certainly did not help," replied Minerva wryly.

"It must have been awful for you then..."

"Albus had been my oldest, and best friend, Hermione, and Severus... well, he might not have seen us as friends but I did."

"Really? He must have been a hard man to like," she replied very well aware of who had sat down on the hearth beside her and was listening.

Minerva chuckled, "That sums him up mildly, my dear. Severus was prickly at best but he had a sarcastic wit about him, and a sharp honesty that endeared him to me. It was a Scotswoman recognising the Scottish temper in him, I suppose..." her voice faded, and for a long moment she was awfully quiet.

Gently Hermione nudged vocally, "Minerva, what did you mean by the ghosts of the past were stirred up?"

"Severus," the older witch almost whispered.

Even though he was not touching Hermione, she felt his body tense in anticipation of what Minerva would say.

"I did not know for several hours after the Final Battle that Severus was dead. It was Harry that spoke to me, and told me of what had happened in the Shrieking Shack." Minerva took a deep breath that was of a sigh through the green flames. "Mark me, I was still very angry at Severus for... for murdering Albus, but deep inside I did not want him hurt, or to be killed. When Harry told me he had died... I think something finally died in me for both men."

"Are you saying...?" Hermione began.

Minerva finished, "I had forgiven him, Hermione. For all that he did, I still knew him as that raggedy little boy, dripping from the Black Lake because Sirius had pushed him in during the crossing." Minerva was quiet, again, and Hermione noted that Severus, sitting beside her, was as frozen as a statue. "When Harry, the Healer from St. Mungo's, and I went to retrieve Severus' body you can imagine how shocked I was to find it was not there. Your inquiry brought back those ghosts of my nightmares, Hermione. The ones where I dreamt of Severus in the hands of the Death Eaters that escaped; no dignity in death, and left forgotten."

"Except for Rita Skeeter's articles," muttered Hermione drily.

"Oh dear girl!" tutted Minerva. "I do hope you're not telling me you still read that outrageous rag now, do you?"

"Oh! Oh no, Minerva, I don't!" protested Hermione.

"It's been useless for news since that Skeeter woman bought it. Nothing but slander throughout, and very vague pieces that pretend to be news. Thank goodness Luna is running The Quibbler. But for a small piece now and then about a Blithering Humdinger, it's rather newsworthy."

Hermione smiled. She read The Quibbler, and it was very good. Severus tapped her shoulder, and whispered in her ear. Hermione nodded then continued her Floo conversation. "Minerva, might I come for a short visit? I called you to tell you about something I found but I think it might be better to show you."

"I am intrigued. Come through, Hermione. I'll have Delphine makes us tea."

Both Hermione and Severus rose to their feet; the latter massaged his recently bent knees as he noted in his thoughts to brew some new Joint Relief Potion. Hermione threw in a handful of Floo powder, called out their destination, and told Minerva, "Coming through!"


	29. Chapter 29

**Voldemort's Assassin - Chapter 29**

**Hogwart's Headmistress McGonagall's Office**

Minerva was beginning her morning, after breakfast, with a gentle tea that would ready her for the day. There would be the usual Ministry correspondence, then correspondence from the Board of Governors of Hogwarts, and then correspondence (which tended to include Howlers) from the parents of the students. Beyond the correspondence there would be meetings with the teachers and then after dinner a patrolling of the halls; something she had never done until after the death of Severus Snape. Somehow, the patrol seemed to bring her closer to his spirit. It bothered her that there was no portrait of the ill-fated Headmaster Snape hanging on the wall of Heads.

So, a visit from Hermione to break this monotony was a rare one and very welcome. She sent Delphine, her Hogwarts elf, to prepare tea for herself and Hermione, and she waited for the young witch to emerge from the green flames. Thus, when a tall figure in black followed Hermione it was good that there was only a quill in her fingers to drop.

Minerva took off her spectacles, then replaced them as she blinked in astonishment. "Severus?" she barely gasped.

Nervously, as if to protect him, Hermione grasped his hand in hers. Severus made no move to remove his hand. He stood beside the young witch as Minerva rose from her chair.

She was older, it seemed. There were white strands in the brown hair which hung in loose waves to her waist since she had not confined it to its usual bun. One cheek was marred by the white streak of a long-healed battle scar. She wore robes of red and gold, and Severus noted that Minerva looked every inch a Queen of Celts.

"My boy?" Minerva came closer and Severus could not help the step he took backwards which put him rather uncomfortably close to the now orange flames of the large fireplace in the office. "Is it really you, Severus?"

Before he could answer Minerva had wrapped her arms tightly about him, and laid her head upon his chest. Hermione let go of Severus' hand and he wrapped his arms around the old witch as he let go of a shudder-y breath he had been holding.

"My dearest boy... oh, Severus!" Minerva whispered softly in his ear. "I have missed you terribly!"

When she leaned back, but now holding onto his upper arms, he smiled ever so softly at the glimmer of tears not released that shone in her eyes. "Minnie, forgive me?"

"For everything, child. Even for not letting me know you were alive," her admonishment held no sting to it. "Come," she pointed to the cosy area that she had created with a tapestried couch, and two matching, over-stuffed chairs all by the arched window of diamond shaped glass interspersed with brilliant colour. Severus recalled the window glass had once been in Minerva's student office. It was an enchanted piece of glass that would show Minerva any view around Hogwarts she chose.

Once seated, Minerva spoke formally, "I have so many questions, Severus. And, Hermione, you devilish girl! Withholding such a discovery from me." Minerva smiled to show that she was not mad. "However, my inquiries must wait since I sense that you are both here for reasons yet more important."

Both nodded but Severus spoke, "We are here in regards to the recent attack on Charles Weasley."

"I received a Floo call from Kingsley telling me the boy survived," Minerva nodded. "What information do you bring, Severus?"

"I believe I am in need of your assistance, Minerva. Did... Albus..." Severus' gaze dropped to the toes of his boots. He felt Minerva's hand on his arm. He noted that her fingers felt slimmer, harder even. He lifted his head, and found himself caught by her blue gaze.

"Once I learned what Albus had done to you, dear boy, I was sick at heart. It was terribly callous, and I never took you to fault from that day forward. Please, do not feel guilty, Severus," whispered Minerva.

Severus swallowed and placed his hand over Minerva's. Her skin was smooth, like the best linen paper, but her fingers were thinner. Briefly he closed his eyes, and wondered why he had kept away for so long. When he opened them, he asked with more confidence, "Did Albus leave to you the secret of his wards?" The 'secret' was the signature powerful wizards and witches infused much of their permanent magic with. Severus had access to half the wards that protected the safe houses he knew of, Albus had the other half, and without his secret, Severus could do nothing.

Minerva nodded. At that moment the teapot arrived upon the table in front of them along with matching cups. She poured the tea as she spoke, "He did, but I tried them, and they did not work on anything of real import. I cannot fathom why he left me the secret."

"I believe it was a secret signature Albus devised for only one reason, Minerva." Severus removed the parchment he had shown Hermione from his breast pocket, and gave it to her.

Minerva received the parchment, unfolded it, and studied it with growing awareness. Within the black and red ink of notes were written in Old Latin the places of exactly twelve safe houses; houses that she had never been aware of. "Safe houses," gasped Minerva. "Only once did Albus even mention that he had a place to hide those in danger... he never told me it was safe houses."

Minerva handed the parchment back to Severus. "Did you help him with the wards, Severus?"

The Potions Master nodded. "I did. Albus did not feel that the three he had were enough so he emptied his vault to buy, and prepare each of those houses. He then took me into his confidence, and together we warded the houses." Severus paused, then continued, "It is my thought that the Weasleys ought to be separated into those houses, and any other Order member that wishes to take such precaution may do the same."

Hermione, silent long enough, added, "They are all very large houses, Minerva, so it is doubtful that anyone would feel crowded."

Minerva nodded solemnly. "More than adequate. But, Severus, is there anything you can tell me about this Assassin... Berger. Will we be waiting long for his capture?"

Severus let out a huff of air in frustration. "I really cannot say, Minerva. Berger was on the fringes of the Death Eaters, and it was only in the latter months before the Final Battle in which we truly learned anything about him.

"I understand from Kingsley that Lucius Malfoy has been assisting him," Minerva said. "Does he know as much as you?"

"More, I believe. Voldemort had long been in Bellatrix's confidence, and she spoke indiscreetly to Lucius when the Manor was occupied. Lucius has been imparting that information to Kingsley."

Minerva leaned back in her chair, and unconsciously trailed her fingers over the old scar on her cheek. "Poor Harry. I had hoped it was all over, my boy, especially a few months ago when the Aurors caught Altimus Gibbon, the son of Theo Gibbon killed here at Hogwarts before the Final Battle. The Ministry said he was the last Death Eater," the older witch sighed.

"The Ministry is still of the foolish opinion that Death Eaters were the end all/be all of Voldemort's followers. There were the Snatchers, many of whom did not even fight in the Final Battle, and then there were followers of the Mad Man that were of the same ilk as Berger," said Severus. "Voldemort did not just have his Death Eaters, Minerva, his followers numbered in the hundreds. Had Voldemort called all of them for the Final Battle I believe we would be facing different circumstances."

"You are a fount of depressive reality, Severus," Minerva smiled wryly, and shook her head. The Headmistress then leaned forward and topped Hermione's tea. "How are you faring, my dear?"

Hermione sighed, and sipped her tea. "I keep wanting to talk to Harry but of course I can't."

"And, I hear you are living with Lucius?" Minerva asked archly.

"You are as subtle as a brick, Minerva," scoffed Severus. "The young lady had no home, and as Lucius has more room than he can deal with a home was provided. And, to silence your salacious thoughts, Molly warded Hermione's rooms to keep myself, and Lucius out."

Minerva's eyes widened, "Is that where you have been living, Severus?"

Severus' voice showed his indignation, "Not that anyone knew, but it was Lucius who came back to the Shrieking Shack for me, and prevented my death. He offered me a home, and the lab that I already had built with him. I am now the proprietor of a successful owl-potions business, and have made for myself a life content."

"Until Harry's death," said Hermione softly. "You revealed yourself to Minerva so you could help the Order once again."

"Oh please, _Miss Granger_," sneered Severus as his eyes rolled upward. "The hero worship tainting your voice is patently obvious."

Hermione blushed in embarrassment. "It isn't hero worship," muttered the witch. "I am simply proud of you. Is that allowed, _Professor_?"

Severus drew in a deep breath as he swung his gaze to look down upon the young witch. He was all prepared to blast her with his scathing sarcasm until he saw the pretty blush in her cheeks, and the most brilliant smile in the world. Deflating he said resignedly, "Well, I suppose it would not go ... _unappreciated_…, Hermione."


End file.
